


Lucid Dreams

by virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fun, M/M, Sexy Times, Sleeping Beauty - Freeform, Wincest - Freeform, fairytale, light - Freeform, rom com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: Sam as Sleeping Beauty? Dean as Prince Charming? What the hell is happening here? The boys are dragged into the world of Fairy Tales, but can they get a little ‘happily ever after?’ Mostly light and fluffy fun.(transferred 2008 fic to AO3 by request)
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with Dean's Fetish

Dean gave Sam a frustrated look as they sat in the waiting room. “Just because we saved her doesn’t mean we need to wait on her to get fixed up,” he grumbled for like the eighth time. And yet, here they were... 

Sam huffed and looked at the floor, shaking his head at his brother. If he wasn't the one who always had to remember the names of Dean's million and one women, he wouldn't believe Dean had ever even been near a female the way he obviously didn't understand them. Rose was 'putting on her face', he understood that. Women did that kind of thing. It wasn't that big of a deal.

He paced to the window, and put his arm against it, looking out. Fine, they’d saved her from a Gorash and she’d even known what the fuck it was and hadn’t blinked when they’d chopped it to tiny pieces. And her advice to let the remnants stew in holy water had been dead on. But Dean hadn’t liked the way she’d snapped out orders, and told them to stay there when she went inside with the doctor who came to her house set her arm. The doc left quite a while ago, and she was still keeping them waiting. 

“Remind you of anyone? Missouri?” Dean made a face. Anyone who could see through him made him comfortable, and he had a feeling this woman who called herself Rose was a lot like Missouri. “She was trying to pull that ‘touchy feely’ crap and I...” 

Sam looked up at his brother, lips parting as he was about to answer him, only to snap his mouth closed once more as Rose walked into the room.

Rose walked in and straightened her cowgirl hat over her white hair, piled high. She’d reapplied her make up, even with her arm in a cast and no one could tell she’d been seconds away from losing her life. “... you what?”

Feeling the weight of those piercing blue eyes, Dean snapped his mouth shut. She was old, he had to cut her some slack.

“Older than you think,” she said, her smile broadening when Dean’s eyes widened. A soft groan escaped Sam's lips as he rolled his eyes. Leave it to Dean to think about her being old. 

“I’d like to thank you boys properly for your help. Look at the state of your clothes,” she shook her head and started to reach into her wallet. 

Sam glanced at Dean, before returning his attention to Rose, holding a hand up and shaking his head. "No, really, that isn't necessary, ma'am. We're fine." Sam told her, giving Dean a pointed look as he finished his sentence. _Say something, dude!_

"Well gas money..." Seeing Sam's appalled look, Dean shrugged. "We're good. Just happy to have done a good deed, like the boy scouts."

"Stop mocking me, young man, or I'll introduce you to the story of the princess and the frog... or in your case, toad." 

Dean's eyes shifted to Sam's, a 'what the fuck' question lighting them up as he looked at his brother. 

Sam smirked slightly at the old woman's words, before she reached out and passed him her business card. Looking down at the card as Rose took a seat and leaned back, he read it to himself and smiled wide. _Fairy-godmother? Yeah, okay...sure._ He glanced over at his brother then, clearing his throat, as he pulled to his feet, "I think we're done here. We ought to be going." he said as he looked back at Rose, smiling softly down at her. "Feel better." 

This time it was Sam who was on the other end of her piercing stare. "You always were a doubting Thomas. Oh well. I think you'll both get your 'happily ever after.'"

"No such thing, but whatever floats your boat." Dean was done, and this waiting had been a damned waste of time. Striding out with Sam at his side, he continued his rant about crazy people, and tugged the card out of Sam's hand. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." 

Sam chuckled at his brother as they reached the car, shaking his head. He shrugged, reaching one hand out to open the car door, "Dean, she's old, and probably lonely. Leave it be." He folded himself into the car, closing the door after himself. Once Dean slid behind the wheel, he looked over at him, "You really could have been a little nicer though, dude," he said, all traces of humor gone. "I kinda feel bad for her," Sam told his brother as he looked back toward the house. "All alone in that big house, no one to talk to," he looked back at his brother, "You think you're batman and you're not old and senile...yet." 

Dean gave him a look. "Bitch." Smiling with his mouth closed, he started the car and headed for the highway. They were done here, and had no plans. Just driving to kill time until the next big kill.

"I was thinking. Vegas?" He looked over. "Strictly business. I hear that one of the older hotels in downtown might have a haunting."

Sam looked over at his brother frowning, "Really?" he nodded, lips curved downward as thoughtfully, "Vegas, huh? Mmm...I was thinking maybe that nudist camp you saw signs for... I heard there was a demonic presence in the area." Sam looked out the side window to hide his grin. Dean had gone nuts after reading that sign days ago, bitching about why it was they never had hunts someplace like that. 

Slowly, Sam looked back over at his brother, to gage his reaction, a crooked grin on his face, unable to hide it any longer.

"I'm in. What?" Dean turned his face again. "Hey you're the one who has girl parts to cover up. Me?" He cocked his head to the side with a smug smile. "Got nothing to hide. Might need a body guard to make the women form a line though."

Sam glared at his brother. "Girl parts?" he huffed and shook his head, looking out the window. "The only way any decent person in their right mind would have anything to do with you, who isn't related to you, is if they were unable to run away...unconscious or something...jerk."

"Bitch," his answer was automatic. Grinning with glee at having gotten to Sam, he started tapping on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. "Let's grab a coffee." Car needed gas too so he pulled into a main street and looked around. 

Sam was quiet for a few moments as he thought about the old lady they had just left. "You know, we'll be like that one day." He paused. "You know, alone. With no one there for us. It's all people like us can expect."

"What the hell?" Hitting the pedal, Dean made a u-turn into a gas station and parked near the mini mart. "What do you mean it’s all we can expect? You might grow up to pass out fairy godmother cards, but not me. I'm planning to go out with a bang." 

Sam shrugged, "A bang... alone. Same thing," Sam told him, leaning his head against the door as he looked a his brother. "Face it, Dean, it's not like we’ll just get married, have kids, a house with a white picket fence..." Sam sighed, looked out the window, "You and Dad taught me that." He looked back at Dean, "Remember? I tried for normal. Didn't work."

Dean went silent, only searching his brother's face, before opening the door. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? There wasn't anything he could say, though yeah... not real happy that he'd been the one to teach Sam that. He slammed the door, and walked to the passenger side. "You want that coffee?"

Sam pulled away from the door, looking up at his brother, "I'll go with you. Stretch a bit," he mumbled as he opened the car door and unfolded his tall frame from the car. Closing the door behind him, Sam followed Dean toward the mini-mart, hands shoved into his front jeans pockets, head bowed.

"So much for 'happily ever after,'" Dean muttered heading straight for the coffee station. He picked the jumbo sized cup and filled it to the brim. From the corner of his eyes he saw Sam walking up and down the aisles, hands in his pockets and a bit hunched. Dammit... they should have let Rose kick the bucket... yeah, not an option. But if he'd known she'd get Sam brooding, he'd damn well have made sure they hadn't stuck around to talk to her.

He went and paid for the coffee and slapped his brother's back. "Set?" 

Sam pulled his head up, lips pressed together in a thin line and nodded before glancing toward the door, "Yeah." he muttered the word softly, biting his lip as he walked away from Dean toward the door. 

At the door, Sam leaned his back against it, pushing it open as he waited for Dean, then held it with a shoulder as Dean walked out. He followed after Dean then, hands still stuffed in his pockets. Shoulders once again hunched as he hung his head. Sam thought of Rose's business card, _Wishes, inc._ and shook his head as he walked. In their business the best wish they could hope for was to make it through another night.

The sound of squealing tires had Dean simultaneously turning and shoving his brother out of the way of a black sedan. "Sammy!" they were both diving away but it was too late. The weight of the car slamming into his stomach and blacked him out... just like that. 

Sam had heard the squealing tires, turning his gaze toward the sound as he pulled his hands from his pockets, just as Dean was shoving him, yelling his name. Unable to dive out of the way fast enough, Sam felt the vehicle impact with his side, just before his head hit the pavement and the world went dark.

* * *

[Dream state - somewhat AU]

"Two shots" Dean slammed his palm on the bar top. When the bartender brought the drinks, he put one in front of him, and one in front of the bar stool next to him. "Happy birthday dad." He knocked his drink back, giving an "ahh" as it burned down his throat. Tossing a few bills next to this glass, he got up and walked out.

Dad was right about some things. Hunters shouldn't have wives or kids, or they'd just jip their families ... they'd miss the first day of school, or their anniversaries, they wouldn't be there on Christmas eve and they'd lie ... lie about everything. But dad was wrong about other things. They weren't going to hunt together until his dad got so old Dean had to carry his ass around the way his dad used to claim he carried Dean's ass around. Nope, there was no "they" anymore. It was just him. Him and his Impala. 

*

_You gotta be kidding me._ Dean stared down at the glass casket sitting on a pedestal in the middle of the town square. It had just been vacated by a tourist whose family took her picture... a corny one at that, complete with her 'prince' kissing her awake. Is THIS really why dad had marked the town of Stowe as one of the places he wanted to get to in the next year or so? Seriously?

"You should have been here a month ago, there were lines."

"Huh?" Dean turned to find an older man settling down on a bench and reaching into a paper bag to get a sandwich.

"Lines. Before the body was stolen."

"What are you talking about... what body?"

The man gestured toward the coffin with his sandwich. "I thought you were here for that. For years, it was in there, perfectly preserved. Everyone from around these parts and farther used to come to try their luck out. So you're not one of them?"

"Try their luck how?"

"Kiss him awake. Take a look at the plaque." The man chewed on his sandwich and swallowed as he watched Dean drop down and wipe away mud and dirt from a plaque.

"The Boy King. Huh, so girls came and..."

"Not girls... girls, guys, old men, young... you name it. Legend has it that the Boy King is magic and the person who wakes him will be rewarded."

"What's the reward?" Dean snorted, not really interested but feeling he should at least find out a bit about this thing, if only to cross it off his dad's 'to do' list.

The man shrugged. "What would you ask an all powerful man you saved from eternal sleep?"

"His secret to sleeping well?"

"I didn't say I believe. Just... plenty of others who do. One believed enough to steal him."

"Maybe someone woke him and he walked off."

Recognizing he was being mocked, the man didn't answer.

Great, he'd driven to the Green Hills of Vermont for nothing. Sleeping Beauty, or whatever... was gone. A good thing, if you asked him because there was no way his mouth was touching some guy's, especially one who'd been dead for so long.

He headed for the diner near his motel and checked out the menu. As he scanned it, he shook his head. The diner was called 'Legend' and the items on the menu... The Prince Burger, The One Kiss Meal Deal, The boy King's favorite... it went on and on, the references to the glass coffin and the town legend. Now that he thought about it, a lot of the store names could be linked to the story. Guess they'd made a killing from tourists over it.

He ate his meal, and took a coffee to go, still wasting more mind power on the legend than it was worth. Then again, why was the body missing? He’d asked a few questions and dug a little more and found out that at nights, the glass coffin would be sealed in a concrete box and that only heavy equipment could have lifted the lid. No one had seen or heard a thing.

Hours later, instead of relaxing in front of the t.v., he was taking notes from his computer. There was stuff about the Boy King at his favorite research sites, but nothing like the stories he'd heard in town. The Boy King was said to have tremendous power, both feared and coveted by demons. Whoever had control over him would tip the scales in the battle of good and evil. "Power over him, how?" Rubbing his eyes, Dean looked at the ritual again.

Supposedly the ritual could be used to connect to the Boy King while in a dream-like state. Not everyone... but only those who had the potential to wake him. What gave a person that edge wasn't mentioned. There was nothing about how to wake the dude up, either, but Dean would bet it had nothing to do with a kiss. The things people came up with... but it was smart and it had brought the town business.

He couldn't detect anything overtly dangerous in the ritual. What the hell... why not give it a shot. Then he could REALLY cross this town off the list.

He drew a diagram, and lit a candle. Saying the Latin words of the spell, he burned the paper over the flame of the candle. That was it... now for sleep to claim him.

Stripping down to his shorts, he crawled into bed, and shut the light. "Sleeping Beauty my ass."

** 

Time had no meaning when one was asleep for centuries, but as feelings, deep stirrings began to come to life within his sleeping form, the Boy King knew this was a once in a Millennia chance. A soft smile pulled at his lips as he lay asleep, the only clue that he felt the presence near him.

When the darkness cleared from his eyes, all Dean could see was the sleeping figure. He moved closer and saw that it was a guy in his early twenties, probably and having a damn good dream by the looks of it. He had dark hair, kind of longish, and a strong jaw. It was a little chilly in the room to sleep without a shirt, and if he'd really been asleep for all those years, Dean wanted an explanation for how he was that buff. Hell, even he was jealous of that six pack... forget six pack, it was more like a twelve pack.  
_"So, are just going to stand there, or are you going to kiss me?"_ Sam chuckled softly.

"What?!" Dean heard the voice, but it was in his head... not out loud.

_"Yes, I said a kiss. You know, pucker up your lips, crush them against mine... maybe a little tongue action,"_ Sam gave a mental shrug, _"A kiss. You DO know how to kiss, right?"_ the smile gracing his handsome face was wide, and it made his dimples stand out.

"Course I know how to kiss, been kissing since I was twelve," Dean answered, hotly. "But you're a dude. There's not such thing as Sleeping Dude... and this is... I dunno... like being Alice in Wonderland. It'll be gone when I wake."  
The smile fell away after a moment, replaced by a look of sadness. _"If you don't believe, why did you come?"_

Dean shrugged, then realized the sleeping man couldn't see the gesture. "Bored. Did the ritual, and lookee." He strode across the small room and tested the stone walls. There were no windows, save one that was about twenty feet above them. "Who makes this stuff up anyway? This place is crap. If I were dreaming it up, there'd be some leather love seats and fur rugs and..." He coughed into his hand to clear his throat, and went to test the heavy wooden door. 

_"And?"_ Sam asked him, _"Go on, finish the thought. If you wake me, I'll see what I can do about the leather and the fur, what else do you like?"_

Dean looked over his shoulder at him, then shook his head and tried the damned door again.

Sam sighed after a few moments, _"Do I bore you that much that you insist on looking at the room rather than me?"_ he asked, brow quirking, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"You can see?" Cocking his head, Dean walked back and looked down into the Boy King's face. 

_"I can see you, yes."_ Sam answered him simply. 

"With your eyes closed. Weird shit." 

_"I can't open my eyes... not until you wake me. You DO plan on waking me, don't you? If it helps, close your eyes and pretend I'm a girl. I won't bite,"_ the small smile, turned into a full blown one with dimples denting his cheeks. _"You're kinda skittish for a Prince Charming, aren't you?"_ Sam asked him, as his smile fell away, replaced by a frown.

Dean blinked a couple times. "You got this all wrong, I'm no Prince Charming. Hell, you're no princess!" It was weird though, something was drawing him to the guy... it kinda worried him and kinda sent a thrill through his system. For someone who'd been asleep for centuries though, he sure had a smart mouth on him. "What's your name, Princess?" 

Sam chuckled softly. _"It's Prince actually, or was when I went to sleep. You know, the Boy King. Don't tell me you've never heard of me,"_ he shook his head slightly, _"And my name is Sam. And yours would be?"_

"At least that's normal," he muttered. "Dean. Winchester." He looked around the high bed that Sam was laying on. "Alright, why don't you forget this kissing crap and just get up?" He slid his hand under Sam's shoulders and started to lift.  
Sam frowned at him, and if Dean could have seen his eyes, they were rolling at the idiotic attempt he was making. _"Oh sure, this is going to work. Gee, why hadn't someone thought of this before?"_ Sam huffed, _"You aren't very bright for a Prince either, huh?"_

Dean snorted. "I'm not the one laying there like I'm in a morgue." Making a face, he let him back down. "If kissing works, then why the hell are you still asleep. They said there were lines of people kissing you, and by the way... yuck, all those germs." Not that that had ever bother Dean, but he couldn't pass up the dig.

Sam frowned at him, _"What's a morgue? As for the germs, did you not say you had been kissing since you were twelve? I should say you have just as many germs then. Unless ye are betrothed. Is it the one you are to marry you have been kissing all these years?"_

Crossing his arms, Dean seriously considered hauling his ass out of this dream. "For someone who's asleep, you're pretty damned insulting. I've kissed plenty, and there's no 'betrothed.' Who the fuck says that word anyway." 

Sam's frown deepened. _"Insulting? You're the one who refuses to kiss me! You are the one who said I had germs! You are the one who keeps saying how weird this is. I think YOU have been insulting ME! And as for who says, 'betrothed',"_ Sam's bottom lip jutted out slightly as his face fell, _"I do. What's wrong with that? Doesn't everyone say that?"_ Sam sighed, _"I guess you aren't the one then,"_ he muttered sadly.

Every accusatory word out of Sam's mouth had been irritating Dean until his mood changed. Why the fuck should he care that the smile was wiped off the face of some guy he didn't know? He tried to walk away, but he'd only taken two steps, when he found himself returning. "Alright, I'm gonna give it a shot. But if you EVER tell anyone ..." he was pointing at him. 

Sam grinned, nodding. _"Of course, not."_ Who was he going to tell anyway?

He bent over Sam's face, pressed his lips tightly closed, and then landed a quick peck on the guy's lips. "Alright, there... get up." 

Sam frowned, _"That's it? That's the best you've got? I've had small children do better than that! Come on, dude, lay some lip lock on me!"_ he huffed.

Dean's mouth tightened. "How can the same person use the word 'betrothed' and 'lip lock'?" He looked away. "Look, I've never kissed a guy. Not even in a dream, I mean a real dream, dammit." He gripped the edge of the bed and studied Sam's face. "Smooth enough to be a girl, I guess," he ran a knuckle down the side of Sam's face. "If I do this, you'd better get up." 

Sam smirked slightly, but remained silent, waiting. His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he waited to feel Dean's against his in a real kiss. He didn't answer the guy's question about his speech as there really was no answer for it. It was a combination of what he knew from his youth and the things he had heard in the village square. He knew what was going on around him, wherever he was. He was just... unable to do anything about it. The little range of motion he had in this dream was far more than what he had in real life.

"You moved." Dean was about to accuse Sam of faking it, when he decided to just go for it. Best case scenario, he'd get up and Dean could drop his ass off somewhere and forget about the whole thing. Worst case, he'd stay asleep and no one would know about this. 

_"My tongue."_ Sam chuckled softly.

Bracing his hands on the bed on either side of Sam's head, he lowered his mouth over the guy's. At first he just brushed his mouth over Sam's, wondering at how soft his lips were. He felt them tremble slightly and that sent an unexpected jolt of heat through him. Okay, he had to get this over with before he got 'too used to it.' Slanting his mouth over Sam's again, this time he kissed him... really kissed him, delving his tongue inside and stroking Sam's tongue. Once, twice... then he wasn't thinking anymore, it was like his body took over. Moving his mouth back and forth, he started to explore every corner of Sam's mouth. 

Sam's tongue slowly moved into Dean's mouth, the tip running along the roof, before doing a little exploring of his own, then tangling with Dean's again. Sam pulled Dean's tongue into his mouth sucking softly, a soft moan escaping to be swallowed up by the kiss. 

The fingers of Sam's hand started to move slightly then, just small twitch-like movements at first, growing into the ability to actually bend his fingers as the kiss continued. He smiled against Dean's lips as he slowly clenched and unclenched his fingers. Digits that had not moved for centuries were now finally once again moving.

It shouldn't feel so good, it really shouldn't. He should be pulling away, but for the life of him, once Sam started to respond, Dean couldn't. He deepened the kiss, suddenly swept by a strong need he didn't really understand. All he knew was it felt right, so fucking right it was making him hum all over. 

Sam's head slid against the pillow as he turned his head lightly, giving Dean better access to kiss him. He started to take Dean's tongue deeper now. The need to touch Dean, bodily, nearly overwhelming him. Sam whimpered against Dean's lips, wanting him to lean further over him, closer to where his hand was now able to fully move. 

_Just a little lower. Move just a little closer... please._

As Dean continued to kiss him, Sam tried to move a little more, tried to lift his arms, first one, then the other. He was only able to get them a mere centimeter off the bed, but it was more than he had ever thought he would get. So many people, so many trying, and there had never been anything, but now... here was his Prince...

The sounds from Sam made Dean's gut clench. Then he heard the whispered words inside his head and was answering the same way, _yeah, baby... I got you closer._ What the hell... in for a dollar... He cupped the side of Sam's neck, and moved his chest over him as he kissed like there was no yesterday, and no tomorrow. 

Sam felt the heat from Dean's body, directly over him. Reaching up as far as he could, Sam curled his fingers in Dean's long shirt, and tugged him down over him. He fell unceremoniously onto Sam, but it was good enough. Sam moaned low, as he managed to now raise his other arm, gripping the shoulder of Dean's shirt, fisting it in his hand, holding him to him. Sam's hips moved just slightly under Dean then, rubbing their bodies together slightly. _Yes. More!_

Dean was so gone, he hardly realized he was on top of Sam. Dealing with the sensations rocking his body was about all he could concentrate on, even as he melded their mouths tighter together. God he tasted so fucking good, smelled so good, moved so good under him. Moved. His hips. Dean's heart turned over when he realized that Sam's arousal was pressing into his hip. A man's prick was turning him on. Holy fuck!

Freaked, he shouted _"Exeat."_

* 

Dean was breathing hard, lying on his back in bed and rehashing what just happened. Every moment of it. He scrubbed his face and let out another heavy breath. What the fuck had happened? Okay, he got the legend, kiss the Boy King... wake him. Then there was the dream walking, and in the dream, he thought he could wake Sam’s ass up. Only he'd gotten a lot more than he'd bargained for. That was no kiss. A few more minutes and they'd have been dry humping. "Not down my alley. Definitely not down my alley," he said out loud.

He sat up and put his feet on the ground. He'd go out, and forget about this shit. Then tomorrow, he'd be out of here. Yeah... that was the plan.


	2. Chapter 2

Hours later, Dean returned to his room, pissy as hell and slightly drunk. What was the matter with him? He'd had a couple of great offers. Hell, he would have had a threesome if he'd just done a bit of talking. Instead, every time he kissed the blonde, he remembered a brunette. God damn him. God damn the Boy King. What the hell kinda title was that, anyway?

He paced past the notes he'd taken on the dream ritual. It would only work for three days, then the connection would be broken. Good, it's what he wanted anyway. This was just too weird for him. Kissing and...

And yet, he couldn't get the bleakness of that cold stone room out of his head. Or the fact that despite being stuck there in a state of paralysis, his body a prison, Sam had a sense of humor. He was a Goddamned smartass, that’s what he was. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he found himself involuntarily laughing at the guy's blow by blow description of how to kiss. And he'd moved afterwards. It wasn't only his mouth and tongue, he'd moved his hands, and his body... which was what had freaked Dean out, but the fact he'd moved... after what? Centuries of being motionless?

He was feeling guilty, and that was never good. He should just go to sleep... he should. 

"Goddamnit... _versus veritas!_ "

*

He was in Sam's chamber again, staring at him from a distance. He didn't know what to say, not really.

Sam was back the way he had been before, unable to move at all. His mobility had worn off soon after Dean had made his hasty exit. Though his eyes were closed, he could still see, and he was aware of his surroundings, and knew someone was in the room with him.

_"Dean?"_ even calling the name out through mental speech seemed hard for him now, as though gaining a step, he slid back two. With a small sigh, Sam tried not to think about who might be in the room. Tried not to get his hopes up once again, only to have them shattered. It wasn't like he enjoyed being like this. 

After Dean had left, his captor, the one who had stolen him away had come to him. That had not been something he had wanted in the least. Not to mention the state Dean had left him in. Yes, mayhap this Dean may have had a bad night, but at least he had not had to suffer the same fate Sam had. To be imprisoned in ones own flesh.

For one crazy moment, Dean considered leaving again. Maybe the only thing that stopped him was the hopelessness he heard in the mental call. Whereas earlier, he'd thought Sam was full of life and enough optimism that he could joke the way he had, now he had to wonder if he'd robbed him of that. He knew real well what it felt like to fall, and fall again. How would someone who'd waited years feel if ...

"Yeah. It's me." He walked out of the shadows of the wall and came up to the bed. "Bout earlier. I just... I don't swing that way." He could have fucking fooled himself though, the way he'd been all over Sam until he came to his senses.

_"I see."_ Was the only response Sam gave, after that he simply laid there as he had for years, waiting... Waiting for the one he would link with to save him, waiting for a miracle. Just, waiting...

Dean put his forearms on the bed, leaning on them. "Do you?"

_"What is that suppose to mean? Sure I do. I'm not an idiot, Prince Dean. I understand, you do not wish to help me. Fine. Then why are you here? Come to stare at the Boy King? Would you like your picture taken with me? That's what the villagers did.”_ Sam huffed slightly, _”After their half assed attempts to wake me, they would use those..."_ he searched for the word, _"cam-eras, and all I could see were flashes of light, and still, nothing. Trapped, just like I am. So, take your picture and go!"_

"I'm not a prince, dammit. I'm just a regular guy." The rest of Sam's words were still ringing in his head and making guilt eat at him. "I don't even have a camera, I just... I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and..." he spread his hands. "Look, my half assed efforts didn't work either. I did try."

Sam sighed, _"You don't get it do you? This wasn't the real thing...Dean."_ Sam had to force himself to leave off a title to Dean's name. _"This is... it's like a practice run. To get you ready for when you really find me. The real me. You ARE dreaming, you do know this?"_ though there was no smile on his face, it was in his voice at the end of his sentence.

It felt so real, he hadn't thought about it that way. "So I was just having a wet dream about some--" Dean made a frustrated sound at having given that much away. What was it about this... this guy?

_"What, exactly, is a wet dream?"_ Sam was quiet for a few moments, before his thoughts came again, softer this time. _"And your attempts were not half assed. I have not moved, even that much, since... longer than I care to remember... Just so you know. I - I suppose I should thank you...for that."_

Dean opened his mouth, then shut it. He wasn't about to explain a wet dream, hell no. He searched Sam's face. Was he really thanking him for helping him move just that little bit? "I liked it better when you were yelling at me."

_"Sorry."_ Sam's voice was soft, defeated, _"Guess I got excited, only to be let down. Even Boy Kings have their off days."_

"Sam? Why aren't you talking anymore? Out loud I mean?" He pressed his lips together, trying to ignore the crazy urge to help him at all costs.

Sam sighed softly, fighting back the urge to ask him if he really cared. _"Movement must have taken a lot out of me. I dunno. After you left, it wore off and I was back to this, but I was too tired to talk..."_ Sam couldn't resist adding, _"why?"_

Dean shrugged and opened his arms, dropping them back down. "Just asking." But somehow, he knew the answer. He swallowed, loosened his collar, and then just dipped his head and gave it another try. Slanting his mouth over Sam's, he pushed his tongue inside and started to try to engage Sam's again. _Don't freak me out again._

When Dean's lips met his, heat flooded Sam's system, tiny sparks going off in his veins. He gasped softly against Dean's lips, though he was unable to kiss him back, at least at first. Movement from the night before, however slight, and the quick and total removal of the source of his energy had obviously done a number on his strength... his usual ability to move at least his mouth and tongue.

After a few moments, Sam moaned softly into Dean's mouth, as his tongue slowly began to come alive against Dean's. _"Don't stop. Please, don't stop, Dean._

As he wove his tongue in and out, Dean instinctively cupped Sam's face, holding him in place as he worked his mouth harder and deepened the kiss. One minute he was thinking 'not half bad' and the next, he was so caught up in the sensations washing over him, he forgot where he was and that Sam was male. Suddenly all that mattered was that this last and last. He gripped a fistful of Sam's shirt, clenching it as he started a slow, but hard tongue fucking that had him breathing hard and heavy. He hardly even realized he'd crawled on top of Sam.

Sam's breathing was heavier now as his tongue was freed, tangling with Dean's sliding in and out of Dean's mouth as Dean’s slid into and out of his own. Sam moaned, as tiny 'crawling' sensations spread over his limbs, the tell tale sign that he was gaining the ability to move again. _"Keep going. Don't stop."_

He lifted one arm, hand wrapping around the base of Dean's skull, pulling his mouth closer, if that were possible. Teeth collided as tongues tangled. Sam's free hand moved up slightly, fingers twisting in the fabric of the other man's shirt as one leg moved to wrap around one of Dean's, holding him there.

Oddly, Dean wasn't hit by a sense of panic when Sam pinned him in place like that. It excited him in a way he hadn't thought possible... gave him that same thrill he sometimes got when he was on a hunt. _You sure you haven't done this for years?_ Dean lowered his hips, now fitting himself completely over Sam. At least this time, he knew what to expect, and maybe the flight instinct wouldn't be so strong. If his heart rate was any indication, he was getting into this big time.

Sam grinned against Dean's lips, _"Complaining?"_ As Dean's lowered his hips over him, Sam gave a half moan, half whimper sound deep in his throat as he fought not to move his hips against Dean's, not wanting to scare him off again.

_"You're a damn tease, you know that?"_ Sam moaned softly, as he ran the tip of his tongue across the roof of Dean's mouth. _"I've had prostitutes that didn’t tease me this much."_ there was an unmistakable mental chuckle accompanying his words.

_Been called a slut before._ He sucked on Sam's tongue, then pulled off and looked down into his face. "What color are your eyes?"

Sam actually chuckled out loud at the question, and spoke. "Why?" He sobered slightly, "I've been told they are a blue-green, or -" he pressed his lips together for a moment thoughtfully. "Hazel." He smiled then, "Lemme guess, you only like blue eyed, blonde wenches ?" he asked a wide smirk lighting his face.

"Yeah, that's right," Dean said thickly, kissing him one more time, very aware Sam was now speaking out loud again. It was strange, having a hard male body under him... one that didn't give when he moved. Different, not bad. It made him curious. He broke the kiss to breath again. "How long we gotta do this, before you can get up?" 

Sam's smirk grew wider, "Well, that all depends on what part of me ye want up." he laughed at the look the other man shot at him.

"Not THAT part, smartass." If Sam had been standing, he'd have been swatted down. 

"I told you before, this is just a dry run for the real thing. And, I must say, you're doing very well."

"So I'm dreaming you moving... you're not really moving?" He was a bit disappointed.

Sam licked his lips, "Well, that's kind of the tricky part. Every reaction you receive is me,” he shrugged, "It just isn't real. not really real. Not like when you find me. You DO plan to come find me, don't you?" Sam asked him, raising a brow. "I promise I'll try to work on bleaching my hair, if that'll make you feel better." he chuckled.

"You know about bleach... you are such a girl," he pronounced, slowly easing off Sam, but taking his hand. He was starting to figure maybe just touching him helped. 

Sam chuckled at him. "Yes, I know of bleach. I was placed in the town square where women came to market to buy and sell finery. I also know of womanly times and of how corsets bunch and crush delicate flesh." he shook his head. "I had to listen to something while I was trapped just laying there, didn't I?"

"What are you?" he asked more seriously. "Boy King... what does that mean? I tried to find out and... I don't know, some legends say you'll give whoever wakes you riches. Others say that..." He looked at the stone wall across the room. "That you have a terrible power. That you're a... weapon."

"What am I?" Sam’s voice lowered, all of the teasing and laughter gone. He shook his head, "I don't really know anymore. I was just a kid. A normal, human kid, with dreams and hopes, and then, one day..." he let his sentence trail off, shook his head. "It doesn't matter anymore what I am. I am me."

Sam turned his head as if he were actually looking at Dean, "If it is riches you seek, I think you are here for the wrong reasons," he said softly. "I am no weapon, no terrible 'thing' to be used in some war between good and evil." He smiled slightly then, though it held no merriment, "I've heard the stories too, you know? I'm just who I am. The sleeping Boy King." 

"I'd just piss away riches on beer." Dean didn't have holy water, and somehow he was pretty sure Sam was alright, but habits stayed with you. "Christo," he whispered, leaning over Sam. When nothing happened, he nodded in relief. 

Sam smirked slightly, "Why are you whispering in Latin?" he asked in a whisper of his own, but Dean continued on with what he was saying.

"About that...sometimes we don't have a choice, and we gotta choose sides." He left it at that for now. Letting go of Sam's hand, he paced to the door again. "Where is this place? Do you know?"

Sam nodded slightly, "I've been here a fortnight. It is a castle tower two days ride from the town of Green Hills." He was already growing tired from lack of contact with Dean. 

"I - I'm finished talking now." The hand that had rested on his stomach after Dean moved away now slid to the bed once again.

"Use words like 'fortnight' and as if that's understandable," Dean turned his head to see why Sam stopped talking. "Wow... you ran out of juice that fast. I must be losing my touch." Walking back, he sat on the bed, and ran his hand up and down Sam's chest, feeling quite the idiot. "How's this... and if you start purring, I swear I'm gonna kick your ass."

Sam smirked. “What if I moan? Still going to kick my ass then?" His voice was whisper soft.

"Depends on _what_ you moan," Dean answered equally low. "If you're calling for your fairy godmother, you're good." He was trying to be nonchalant about it, but the initially absentminded caresses were already turning into more curious strokes. He wondered what it would be like to run his mouth over those rippling muscles. "You sure you're not doing anything. Magic shit..."

Sam moaned softly, his head rolling to the side as he licked his lips, "Hmm? Um, no. Magic shit takes far too much energy...concentration that I just don't have right now." he told him softly, "Why?" the one word question came out a breathless whisper.

"I dunno. Just keep getting these urges." He ran a calloused hand low over Sam's abs, watching his muscles shiver. "Sammy? You're sure it's gonna work. When I come for real?"

"Hmm..." Sam moaned, the tip of his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he nodded, "Yeah, it'll work....promise." He turned his head, "No one else has been able to do... what you have already done."

Dean dragged his gaze away and took a heated breath. "Must be the ritual. Dream ritual. I should go." He wanted so much to run his mouth up the center of Sam's body, it was nerve wracking. 

"No! Please..." Sam swallowed, shook his head, "Don't go. It - it's just a dream...enjoy it. No one will know," he told him softly.

"It's not that." Not this time. "I need to start looking. To find you." Sam's expression was so forlorn, he just gave in. "Alright. I'll stay a while longer." Curling up next to him, he put his head on Sam's stomach, and snuggled. "It's a dream... right... dream." He needed an explanation for why he was behaving this way. He could feel his guard dropping just a little more with every minute that passed. 

Sam’s hand slowly lifted from the bed, trembling slightly as he laid it on Dean's shoulder. He licked his lips, chuckled slightly, "I know this is going to sound like total bull, but the... platonic touching really doesn't help as much as...um...more sexual touches." He cleared his throat slightly. "I swear, I'm not making this up. Who could make this stuff up?"

"I wanna know the name of the perve who came up with the curse, or spell, or whatever." Turning his face, Dean gave in to his need and kissed Sam's stomach, feathering open mouthed kisses back and forth, then sucking in one place. "That sexual enough?" 

"Don't stop...more." Sam moaned, head rolling to the side, arching just slightly off the bed toward Dean's mouth.

He repeated the motions, this time licking Sam. "Fuck..." He was so responsive, so freakin' responsive.

Sam's breaths started to come out in pants, fingers twitching against the bed linens. "Yes," he breathed, "More. I can feel it... more...."

Sam felt the bed dip slightly again and his heart jumped in his chest, only to have Dean cuddle up to him instead of doing more. A soft exasperated sigh left Sam's lips as the ability to move began to ebb slightly, no longer growing like they had been.

With a sigh, Sam wrapped his arm around Dean as his heart rate began to slow once more. "Goodnight." he whispered softly, as he felt the steady rise and fall of Dean's chest against him.

*

"Hey you," Dean materialized in Sam's room. "Got good news and... what happened to you?" Walking up to the sleeping figure, his eyes grew hot with anger seeing red scratch marks on Sam’s stomach and a slight bruise on his cheek. He touched Sam's face, his blood boiling at the though someone would hurt a defenseless man. 

"I said what happened?" he demanded, this time lowering his head and kissing him, giving him tongue... everything he needed to draw some energy.

Sam had heard his voice, had known he was there, but he shouldn't be. He needed to leave, it was too dangerous. He wasn't sure when she would be back and Sam didn't want anything to happen to Dean. She had been so angry...

When Dean's tongue entered his mouth, Sam couldn't suppress the small moan that escaped him. He wished he didn't have to send him away. Wished that Dean could spend another night with him. But, he had to do this. It was for Dean's own good.

_Get out._ Sam told him, even though he knew he could never 'say' those words to him. It was why he chose to only think them. _I said get out. Now. You have to go, and....and don't come back._

Dean started to fuck him with his tongue, the way he knew Sam liked it. In and out, exploring every corner of his mouth, stroking his tongue, his pallet, kissing him until he had to stop to take a breath. _Tell me that again._ Lifting his head, he spoke. "Don't make me ask another time. Who the fuck did this to you?" He ran his finger tip over the bruise on Sam's cheek, trying to hang onto his cool.

Sam licked his lips, loving the taste of Dean that remained there. "Uh, hmm? Oh, right." he smirked slightly, before frowning. "Demon. She's the one who put me here. Things... didn't go the way she wanted them to and well..." he sighed softly. "Now, please, you need to go. She'll be coming back any minute to try again...or worse, and if she finds you here..." Sam took in a shuddering breath, _"Just go. Please. It's better if you just don't come back again either... ever."_

A demon had stolen Sam's body from the town center? That made sense, if the demons wanted to use Sam as a tool. Now it all made sense, why this job had been in his dad's journal. His angry scowl eased as he formulated a plan, and patted Sam's shoulder. "Bitch is the one that needs to be worrying. Sam, baby, you're in luck. I just happen to be a demon hunter."

He checked his pockets, cursing on finding them empty. Nothing traveled with him in this dream state it seemed. He'd also checked every corner of this room and found nothing in it, so there wasn't a hell of a lot he could do at this moment. "Listen, I think I know where you're at. There are three castles in the Green Hills area. One of them isn't built of stone so I ruled it out. Other one... I was there today, and it's not this place. But this time tomorrow, I'll be here. Up close and personal." A strange thrill went through him, even though he'd been taking a lot of comfort from the fact that all that kissing had been done while 'dreaming.'

Sam wasn't sure if he should be thrilled by that news or horrified. Dean might be a demon hunter, but this demon was determined, and a determined demon was nothing for someone like Dean to go up against. Sam bit his lip slightly, "I dunno if it's a good idea. She’d gone away before. I dunno where, but now that she's back..."

Sam sighed, "Yeah yeah, I know you're a demon hunter. Great, wonderful, but that still doesn't make you immune if she does something to you, if she sees you..." his tongue darted out to moisten his lips thoughtfully, "When you get here, before anything else, wake me. Don't let her see you before then. Wake me first.... promise me that."

"That's the plan. Let me do the worrying, alright. You just lay there," a grin started spreading over Dean’s face when the door was yanked open. He had no time to dive under the bed or even pull himself out of the dream. Damn... change of plans. He started walking toward the red haired woman, crossing in front of her to prevent her from getting to Sam.... when much to his surprise, she walked right through him as if she didn't see him.

_Sam, I'm invisible to her like this. What the hell does she..._

The woman looked Sam over and then stabbed a sharp fingernail into his chest. "If you can get a hard on, you can get up for me. I'm going to keep changing my meat suit until I find the right one, or you decide I'm the one. You got that? Dammit, I know you can hear me," she growled near Sam's ear. I know you moved and I'm going to find out how."

Sonova... Dean was in her face, but powerless as she gripped Sam's jaw hard and landed a bruising kiss on his mouth. When she angrily strode out of the room, Dean ran his thumb over Sam's mouth. "Remind me to tell her she gets zero on technique. You alright? Sam?"

_Get out._ the voice in Dean's head was soft, sad and without hope. _Just, get out._

"This close, and you want me to go and not come back. I thought you had more guts than that." He ran his hand over the angry red marks on Sam's stomach. "Besides all that practicing for nothing? Don't think so."

Sam sighed, "I am concerned for your safty. Were I awake, she would not be doing this... believe me. As for the practicing... You could use it toward the next Boy King you save..." a small smirk pulled at his lips despite himself. "If you feel you must do this now, then be quick about it, do not let her see you, and if she does, run. Do not tarry and do not try to find me, simply run. Deal?"

"All this old world talk, Sammy... gotta tell you, it makes me all tingly." Refusing to answer, he covered Sam's mouth again and kissed the hell out of him, until he felt his arms come around to hold him, so tight it was kinda like he was Sam’s lifeline. Breaking the kiss, he swept his thumb over his own wet mouth and let out a hot breath. 

"Slight change in plans. I'm not staying here tonight. I'm driving here... but first, you gotta do that thing... it's called letting go," he chuckled, not really trying to break free.

Sam felt his heart flip flop in his chest. He was coming there, for real. Not a dream. For him. But he frowned slightly, before he realized what Dean was going on about when he said ‘letting go.’ Slowly, he withdrew his arms from around Dean, only to grab the front of his shirt once more and pull him in for another kiss. "Be careful." he told him softly, running his tongue slowly over his bottom lip, tasting Dean there.

He really shouldn't be taking to this so well... really shouldn't be opening his mouth and accepting this 'just to kiss... kiss.' Then they were going at it hard again, everything else forgotten but the sensations sparking between them as their mouths moved and tongues danced together, until Dean had to stop to take a breath. 

"Hold that thought," he said, gaze raking over Sam's flushed face. _"Exeat."_


	3. Chapter 3

Dean should have been at the castle in four hours, but double that time passed before he was convinced there was some sort of spell on the place, hiding it. Or it was making every road he took end up in the wrong damned place. Just thinking of the marks the bitch demon left on Sam made his blood frigging boil. Then there was the question of what if she got too angry? What if she couldn't keep it under control?

Nah, he told himself. She needed Sam alive. She wouldn't kill him.

But there were a thousand terrible things between life and death. He didn't want Sam to know them. He'd suffered enough being trapped like that.

So Dean stood next to the impala, rain soaking his clothes and water pouring into his eyes and making him blink. Damn he wished his father were here. He was the one who was good with the Latin, and rituals. Dad could have done this with his eyes closed, and Dean needed to read the ritual. He'd been in and out of the car four times already to get the next part since he hadn't been prepared for rain and didn't have a freakin' umbrella to protect the ritual book. 

He finished saying the words, and used his hand and body to cover a semi wet scrap of paper that had a pyramid with an eye drawn on it. After he used his lighter a few times, it finally caught fire. "Come on... work... Sonovabitch." The fire smoldered out and he had to make the paper catch fire again. When the picture was burned out, he tossed the paper onto the wet ground. 

Taking a deep breath, he did that thing that he wasn't so good at... waited. And believed, or tried to.

A quarter of an hour later, he was sitting inside the car and still waiting, when through the windshield, he saw it - in a distance, the facade of the large castle. "Whoa! Back in business." Grinning, he started the car and turned the music on loud. "I'm comin' for ya Sammy." 

* * *

"Shit." Great, the weather had cleared, but now he was staring at a castle being choked by thick black vines with thorns the size of his forearm. He shook the vine to test whether it would hold his weight when an old and crumbling skull came tumbling down, cracking on impact with the asphalt ground. What the hell? There were dead people in the vines, which didn't make sense. How long had this place been under the demon's control anyway?

Right. Sometimes ‘weird shit’ was just that... weird shit. 

Stepping back, he stared at the windows on the tower, and took a guess as to which of the two lead to Sam’s prison. He chose the one with the windows up higher, because in the dream he'd seen that it was impossibly high. This was why he had a grapple and lots of rope in his backpack, and some other "presents" for the demon bitch, whether or not she chose to make an appearance.

He still stared at the building as he wrapped some bandaging around his left hand to protect it, and tied it off. Gripping his dad's machete, he reached up with his protected hand and started to climb. The thorny vines started to wiggle and writhe like snakes.. He cursed as thorns got too damn close... whacked a couple off, but it was damned hard going...

Every time he looked up, it seemed the tower grew taller. Cursing, he reached higher, and started to pull himself up with a vine whipped toward him. His attempt to get out of its way ended up with a thorn burying itself deep in his thigh. He hoped no one heard his shout... or swears.

*  
Sam let out a slow breath as the demon started to pull away from him. She’d been sitting there on his hips grinding against him and screaming at him for nearly an hour. She had kissed him more times than he wanted to remember, and of course, there had been no response. In those moments, he was actually glad of that and shuddered internally at the though of her actually waking him.

She pulled away now, or he thought she had, her body sliding off his, only to have her slap him across the face so hard that his head fell to the side. The blow stung and he was sure his cheek was red.

It wasn't the worst she had ever done. Not the worst she had done in the last hour. The deep nail marks across his chest were proof of that. She had screamed at him that if he could not move for her in pleasure, that maybe he needed a little pain. 

Finally, after she pulled his head up from the pillow by his hair only to scream in his face before releasing him, she stormed from the room.

Sam lay there listening to the world around him. He could hear the birds outside, had known the moment it stopped raining. There wasn't much to do when he was stuck just laying there then listen. He began to hear what sounded like scraping against the outer wall of the tower. Internally, he frowned.   
.  
The sounds started to get louder, closer. Muttered words, muffled really. He wondered, hoped, that it was Dean. Could he have really found the castle? Was it _him_ out side the wall? Hearing a swear word almost shouted right outside, his heart skipped a beat. It was Dean. He was here, for real. Not a dream. 

He wanted to call to Dean, to tell him that the demon was here, that it wasn't safe and he needed to be extra cautious, but he didn't have the strength to do say it out loud, and outside of the dream ritual, he couldn't speak to Dean in his mind. Frustration and worry gnawed at him.

Dean groaned as he lifted his leg one more time, this time to the window ledge, and struggled to pull himself up. He was a little bloody, and maybe his thigh needed to be looked at, but he'd made it. Peering through the window, he was stunned at Sam's stillness. It hit him harder in real life. Course he couldn't see the Boy King's face real well.

Fixing the grapple, he tossed the loose rope down. "This is your lucky day. Prince Dean is in the house," he said, laughing at how stupid that sounded. At least Sam couldn't come back with one of his wiseass remarks. He started to climb down into the room.

Sam knew he was there, heard his remark and thought of something to say back... if only he could. _Prince Dean._ Well, Dean might think it sounded funny, but... it certainly was no more odd sounding than to be called the "Boy King". Not to mention, Sam was fairly positive that enough years had passed he had outgrown the boy part of that title.  
Unable to do more, he waited. Waited and listened for the demon to come back. He knew she would, she never gave up for long. Usually only long enough for her to grab a new 'meat suit' as she liked to call them.. translation, another poor victim. 

_Hurry Dean. Just..hurry._ he thought to himself as he waited anxiously, his heart pounding in his chest.

Dropping down, Dean bit back a curse and looked at his torn and bloodied pants. "When you grant all my wishes, first thing... nice clean pants," he said, sliding the backpack off and leaving it at his feet as he walked over.

Yeah, he was talking a lot. Maybe he was nervous. Maybe just a little. Or a lot. When he reached the bed, time seemed to stand still. His gaze swept over Sam's face, every inch of it... so serene, so strong and yet soft at the same time. Kind of like his voice and the way he talked, opposites. Modern and ancient, one minute a pushover, and the next coming back with his own wicked cracks and giving as good as he got. 

His gaze flicked down over Sam's bare chest and he noticed not only new marks, but someone... the demon had messed with his pants, they were undone. Dean's mouth flattened into a hard, angry line. Without asking any questions, without saying a word, he buttoned Sam's pants up, visualizing the demon bitch's throat in his hands. 

Drawing an audible breath, he leaned over Sam again, this time bracing his weight on his hands on either side of Sam's shoulders. "Hazel eyes, right?" It was better when Sam could answer him, calm him or cajole him... whatever was necessary. Now he was left to his own devices. "Okay, let's do this."

Kissing Sam had become second nature over the past few days, but now, as he fitted his mouth over the sleeping man’s... it was a bit awkward. His heart slammed into his chest, then stuttered. 

_Just do it..._

Pulling back for just a second, he moved back in, this time with determined focus. He kissed Sam's closed mouth, then pushed his tongue past his lips and started to find every corner of his mouth, already mapped in Dean's memory. "Kiss me back, Sammy," he whispered, almost needily, bringing their mouths together a third time.

When Dean came over to him, Sam's heart fluttered in his chest. This was it. He was finally going to wake up. Not just wake, but he had found _the one_ he was connected to. His Prince. 

Dean's first kiss, the first brush of his lips against Sam's had done nothing. The kiss needed to be deeper, a real kiss. He wanted to tell Dean, tell him to do it like in the dreams, but he couldn't, couldn't do or say anything. He felt Dean start to pull away and panic gripped Sam. _No! Don't go! Not yet! You need to..._ And then Dean was leaning down over him again, kissing him, his tongue pushing past his lips, into his mouth, exploring every part like in the dreams. 

_Like that. Just like that. Keep going._ He heard Dean whisper to him to kiss him back and internally he whimpered. He couldn't. Not yet. The stirrings of movement, of awaking had just begun within him. He needed more. Slowly, Sam started to move his tongue against Dean's. It took great effort, as his body was just beginning to awaken. But, he wanted to be able to encourage Dean not to stop. Not to give up on him. 

As the kiss continued, Sam felt the sleep begin to melt away more, and kissing Dean back was no longer difficult. He pushed his tongue into Dean's mouth, searching out every corner, sucking softly on his tongue, running the tip of his tongue along the roof of Dean's mouth. Pulling his tongue back he flicked his tongue against the corners of Dean's mouth, before delving deep again, a soft moan escaping him, swallowed up in the kiss. 

Soon his fingers began to move, then his arms, just as they had in the dream. Wrapping his arms around Dean, he held him to him as he kissed him back passionately, trying to pull him down to him, Dean's body against his. _More. Please. More._

The tugging would have had Dean amused if he weren't so damned caught up in the kiss. It shouldn't be this good, not with some dude... definitely not with some dude he'd only met in dreams. A guy who'd been asleep for centuries should not taste this damned good. It was the spell, it had to be, because why else was he sliding his hand under Sam's head, lifting him closer and kissing him again and again?

"Okay... okay... get up now, Sam," his ragged breaths skimmed the Boy King's cheeks. "I know you're awake. Open your eyes, let's ... let's go." 

Sam smiled, eyes still closed. "I would suggest we keep going, but under the circumstances..." his smile faded a little as his eyelids began to move, lashes fluttering, before stilling again. "More." he told Dean, reaching up with one hand to grab a fist full of Dean's shirt and pull him back down, kissing him again. 

As Dean returned the kiss, Sam's eyes slowly fluttered open, and he smiled against Dean's lips before releasing the fistful of material. "Told you they were hazel." he said softly, staring intently into Dean's brilliant green eyes.

As their gazes locked, Dean's heart almost stopped. "Hazel," he repeated, a bit stupidly. Damn, why couldn't he have said 'blue' or been clever, or something? "Your lips are swollen," he absently rubbed his thumb across Sam's mouth, only realizing it after he'd done it. He cleared his throat and straightened. "Need help to get up?"

Sam smiled at him, brow raised slightly when Dean asked him about getting up. "Um, yeah, I am gonna need help there. I need you to," Sam's smile grew until his dimples showed, "Do more... like before... the grinding... you know, sexual stuff. Like, lay on top of me, grind your hips against mine... but ya have ta mean it." Sam quirked a brow, "Think you can handle that? Or do I need to explain it more?" he chuckled.

Staring intently at Sam, Dean opened is mouth... then shut it. He opened it again... and hell, he lost his words. Taking a breath, he finally demanded, "just how does that qualify as 'kissing?'" Why could he make him feel silly just by looking at him like that?   
"Nah... I don't need explaining."

Sam licked his lips, still smiling, "It's not just a kiss. I said a kiss wakes me. I never said anything about getting up." 

Fucking technicalities. Dean ran his hand down Sam's chest, lingering over his abs, sucking in his breath at how Sam's eyes darkened. His own breaths were still coming too fast. Moving lower, he cupped Sam's cock, and squeezed. "Grinding... right?" This time he was the one to lift a brow. 

Sam's smile had faded as Dean touched him, lost in sensations. His eyes darkened as he watched Dean, watched Dean's hand move down his body. Sam sucked in a breath, gasping as he bit his lip. Hazel eyes looked from Dean's hand to his face to see him arch a brow. All Sam could do was nod as his neck arched slightly. Waiting...

Hell no, he wasn't putting his hand down his pants... if that was what Sam was waiting for. He couldn't... He ground the heel of his hand, imagining how he'd like to be touched and giving it to Sam. "Need a kiss?" he asked thickly 

Sam's hips bucked up against Dean's hand, a soft moan escaping him. At Dean’s question, Sam’s tongue darted out to quickly moisten his lips as he nodded. "God, yes..." the words were soft, just a breath of air before Dean's mouth covered his. 

Taking Sam's mouth, Dean tongue fucked him in rhythm with his hand movements. Something shifted inside him and suddenly he needed to have Sam writhing under his hand. He told himself he just wanted Sam to admit that he did _not_ need lessons.

Sam’s hips continued to buck up into Dean's hand as his arms wrapped around him, one hand threading through the short soft golden brown strands on his head as the fingertips of his other hand dug into Dean's back.

Dean moved his mouth down Sam's throat, kissing, sucking, and lingering over his throbbing pulse. Somewhere along the line, while he thought he was getting Sam off... something happened, and here he was, his own erection straining against his zipper, fighting against the need to crawl on top of Sam... right now. "Sam, if you don't get up..." his voice was filled with anguish.

Sam breathing was heavy, as Dean kissed a path down his throat. His heart hammered in his chest, blood roaring in his ears. _Holy fuck!_ Dean's words barely made it through to his lust fogged brain. 'If he didn't get up...' "Yeah?" Sam asked him breathlessly, eyes rolling back as he lowered his lids for a moment only to open them again. "Don't...don't stop."

"Yeah... that." Against his better judgment, but unable to stop himself, Dean got on the bed and straddled Sam's hips. Oh God, he couldn't believe he was doing this, but he couldn't not to it... he just couldn't fight it. Placing his palms on Sam's abs, he started to slide forward, until he was laying on him, one hand grasping his muscular shoulder, the other cupping his head and pulling him up. Fuck...

One thrust of his hips and he brought their groins together. Sam was rock hard under him, so fucking hard Dean could feel his pain. Don't think. Just feel, he told himself, messily bringing his mouth over Sam's and taking him again. Kissing, bucking, tasting... wanting more, but not knowing quite what to do with his feelings. It went on and on, until he started to plead. "Please get up... please, Sam... I need you to get up now." Before he did things that could never be taken back. 

Sam groaned as Dean thrust his hips against his hard cock, his breath catching in his throat. Then Dean was kissing him again, those sinfully luscious lips against his own as their hips bucked against one another. _More. Just...more._

Sam started to squirm whimpering and moaning, needing... He heard Dean begging him to get up now, and technically, he probably could, but he didn't want to get up, not now, not yet. He wanted more of this, more of Dean. 

"I will," Sam panted out, "Just not...right...now..." he panted out, thrusting up against Dean harder. "Keep...going...almost..." Sam bit his lip, moaning as his head rolled to the side, "Don't think so much, Dean." he nearly yelled the words as his hips moved erratically.

The shout incited Dean, made him fuck harder against Sam. It was crazy. It was dangerous. It was fucking beautiful. And it had to stop... it had to, before Dean lost himself. It had to. And it did, the instant he felt Sam's leg twine around his and knew he could walk.

With one last hard thrust of his hips, Dean rolled off Sam. His jeans were so fucking tight... if he were alone, he'd be jacking off right now. He needed it so bad, and he was trying hard not to think about why or how. Running the pad of his middle finger across his mouth and struggling for air, he stood up. "Get up Sam." This time there wasn't a question in his tone.

Sam staring up at Dean, who was now standing next to the bed, eyes wide in shock that he had just...STOPPED! At Dean's command for him to 'get up', Sam smiled at him, before glancing down at his rather obvious erection straining against the fabric of his pants, before looking back at Dean. "I wouldst say that I am up." he told him with a small chuckle as he still gasped for air. 

Slowly, rolling to his side, and using his arms to push up with, Sam pulled into a sitting position on the bed, then stood to his feet. He frowned at Dean then, "You're short."

Dean's eyes widened. "Everybody's a critic. You're..." he gestured with his hands. "Freakishly tall." But then he was looking Sam up and down. "You're up... and I don't mean your damn cock," he half growled, knowing the joke was about to make yet another come-back if he didn't nip it in the bud. "You're walking. We did it," biting his lower lip and grinning, he slapped Sam's back. "We did it." 

Sam smiled at him, raising an eyebrow at Dean's 'freakishly tall' comment. Was he? "Yes, I'm up, and it appears I can walk," he agreed as he took a few steps toward dean and looked the man in the eye. "Well, no actually, we didn't _do it_ , you stopped. Remember?"

"You're killin' me." He ran his hand over is face, and looked back at Sam. "But I get how it would be after a couple hundred years of not getting any..." he gave a one shouldered shrug. Yeah, but what the hell was his own excuse? "Let me see your hands."

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. "My hands?...why?" he eyed Dean for a moment before slowly raising his hands. “You gonna do something with my hands?" Sam asked him with a smirk, eyebrow raised. He held his hands up for Dean to see them, still unsure what this was all about. _What the hell? The guy have a hand fetish or something?_ He'd heard of that...all those years laying there, he'd heard of a lot of things.

All Dean had to do was glance at him to know what he was thinking. "You wish." He looked at the soft, uncalloused palms and shook his head. "You've got _princess hands_. No way you can climb out of here." Then there were the thorns. "We're gonna have to leave out the front door." 

Moving across the room, he bent down and rummaged through his backpack, keenly aware that he still had an uncomfortable erection. Pulling out some chalk and a diagram, he got onto his hands and knees and started drawing on the ground near the door. "Next time your demon bitch walks in here, she's not leaving." His voice was as hard as the granite he started to draw the trap that was now second nature to him. 

Sam frowned at him, "Princess hands?" he asked, looking down at his own hands then. What was wrong with his hands? Oh...climbing? No, that didn't sound like a very good idea. For one thing, Sam knew there were thorns out there, and he had no shirt, no protection from their sharp points and as he looked at Dean he could see that the thorns were indeed a problem. 

Stepping over to a wall, Sam leaned his shoulder against it as he crossed his arms over his chest watching Dean on all fours. Sam smirked and made a 'Mmm-Mmm' sound as he watched him. "I thought you wanted to _not_ keep going?" Sam asked him, "Such a tease." Sam chuckled before pulling away from the wall, his arms falling to his sides, as he walked over to stand near Dean. "And _how_ exactly is this going to help us get out?" Sam asked him.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Dean tugged at his tee shirt, which had been riding up his body... not that Sam, could see under his jacket. "Stop watching my ass," he shot him a glare and concentrated on writing again. "It's not. But she's not leaving this place." Wiping the chalk off his finger, he moved around to start drawing from the other side. "She'll never take over another human, and she'll never--" Without glancing at the marks on Sam's stomach, he nodded toward the back. "I brought you a shirt." 

Sam couldn't help but chuckle at Dean's outburst about his ass. He thought about saying something about it, but decided that if he wanted to not end up with Dean digging himself a hole to get away from him, he better not go there...not right now, anyway. 

"You...brought me clothes?" Sam asked him slowly. He hadn't expected that, the fact that Dean had made him smile. He turned, walking over to the pack and crouched, then looked back at Dean, "Can I just get it out?" Sam asked him. At Dean’s nod, he rummaged around and pulled out a soft tee in a Robin's Egg blue color. He smiled brighter and looked up at Dean, before pulling to his feet. 

"Is it new?" Sam asked him as he walked back over to him, "Did you just weave it?" Sam frowned and shook his head, licked his lips, "I mean purchase it." he corrected. "For if tis yours I fear it may only cover half of me." he snickered.

"You're SUCH an ass." He barely looked up, afraid he'd laugh and encourage Sam. "And what are you worrying about being half covered, you weren't covered at all before." Damn... he hoped the tee he brought had lots of stretch. 

"Yes, but I wouldst not wish to make you feel bad if you were to, oh I dunno, find yourself looking at me." Sam smirked. 

He pushed the chalk up right against Sam's shoes, and looked up. "Sam... do that thing called moving. You're in the way."

Sam looked down at the chalk and quickly stepped back muttering an "Oh, sorry." He unrolled the shirt, and pulled it over his head, looking down at himself in it. It was long enough though a bit tight. Not that it mattered to him, it was soft and the material stretched when he moved. He looked back up at Dean, "What do you think?" Sam asked him knowing the modern tee was a sharp contrast to the old world breeches he wore.

Dean looked up and suddenly, he couldn't look away from the sight of Sam in his shirt. _His._ Just like that, heat was surging straight to his cock again. "I think..." he cleared his throat. "It's great Sam. It looks... really great." Taking a deep breath, he gave a wry smile. "Also, can you go behind me? Breaking my concentration and this is serious business."

Sam’s smile gave way to a frown of confusion. "Go behind you?" Sam asked him, although he was already starting to do as Dean had asked. "How am I breaking your concentration? I can be quiet. I didn't mean to interrupt you." Sam told him, now standing behind Dean.   
"We should really get moving Dean. We really don't have time for this." Sam told him, then he got quiet for a long moment before sighing softly then crouching behind Dean, his body close to Dean's. So close Sam could feel his body heat radiating off of him. "Can I help you?" Sam asked him, his mouth near Dean's ear, breath ghosting over the flesh there.

Between the time Sam moved behind him and his breath started to skim his cheek, Dean had no time to think. If he'd been thinking, he might not have turned his head only to find Sam's mouth inches from his. Dammit... He leaned in and his mouth was colliding with Sam's, and they were kissing again. Hard, and desperate... like they were continuing what they'd started earlier. Dean crouched back on his heels. "That's how you're breaking my concentration. Keep doing it and we're never getting out of here." 

When Dean pulled back, Sam's eyes were heavy lidded as he looked at him. Keep doing it? What was he doing? He didn't.... Sam licked his lips. "But," he said softly, "I wasn't doing anything, just standing there." Hazel eyes searched Dean's face. "I like your freckles," he told him softly, a smile tugging at his lips. "If you wish to get out of here, kneeling on the floor is not the way to go about it. I thinketh thou needs to," Sam smirked, "Get up."

"I [i]thinketh[/i] you need glasses. I don't have freckles," Dean growled, giving him a look that dared him to counter. "And if you really don't know what you're doing... I'm not telling you." He was suspicious, but unsure. Either way, he wasn't giving the guy any more power of him. "Almost done. I'd be done already if you weren't doing that thing you claim not to know you're doing. Maybe if you go sit on the bed." Telling him to go behind him had been a helluva bad idea.

Looking back down at the ground, he started scribbling with concentrated effort. 

Sam nodded as he pulled up, "So you want me to sit...on the bed?" he shrugged as he walked over to the bed and sat down, then leaned back on his elbows, his head hanging back as he stretched his legs out before himself. 

"I still thinketh that we ought go now, not after you draw your picture." he said, though he wasn't looking at Dean, but the wall behind him, the way his head was tilted back. Pulling his head up, he looked down at Dean. "She's going to come back here before you ever get your picture drawn, you know?" he told him, brow raised.

Having made the mistake of looking up and catching Sam leaning back, his throat exposed, convulsing as he spoke, and basically his entire body posed as if he were some kind of model in one of those perfume and cologne commercials, and worse than that... physically reacting to the pose, Dean found himself on edge and had to grit his teeth. "It's not a picture, it's a fucking trap... a devil's trap. I'm not wasting time." Except when he was ogling a guy... a guy... right, it was better when he didn't think of Sam as a guy. Well, he couldn't think of him as a girl either. Eh, just don't think of him at all.

And then the jerk was moving his leg and drawing attention. Again. "Dammit," he moved around giving his back to Sam and started putting in the finishing touches. 

Sam listened to Dean and pulled up, sitting straight, his hands on his thighs as he looked down at him, head tilted to the side, frowning in confusion. "And why wouldst thou wish to trap the devil?" Sam shook his head. "I thinketh we have enough to worry about as things stand, and we need to go..." he smiled teasingly then, "And if you do not wish for someone to believe you have freckles, mayhap you ought not drawn attention to them." 

Before Sam could continue, the demon walked through the door into to his room. 

"You!" Shock reverberated from the her as she stared at Sam. 

Sam's eyes widened. He pulled to his feet as a wave of exhaustion swept through him. He swallowed hard, knowing he would never be able to fight her now, not with the effects of Dean's kisses, his touches, obviously wearing off. 

"Shit." Of course Dean was ready for her, but the trap would have been the best solution. Diving into the top of the pack, he pulled out and uncapped a bottle before she said another word. Tossing the contents straight into her face. As she screamed and was blinded, Dean kicked her in the chest. "Sam, get over here... move it," shouting, he blocked the bitch as she tried to strike him. "By the door," he shouted again. 

Sam watched as Dean flung what appeared to be water at her, causing her to scream in pain, before Dean kicked her in the chest. Lips slightly parted in surprise at what Dean was doing, he appeared rooted in the spot until Dean snapped his order. 

Sam moved as quickly as he could to do as Dean told him, yawning as he went.   
However, instead of getting by the door, Sam moved between Dean and the demon, blocking Dean from her wrath.

"Get out of my way, Sam," Dean started to shove him away. What the hell did he think he was doing?  
Sam glared at her as he stood there, arm out, keeping Dean away from her.

"Sam! God damn it," he started to go around him.

"Quick, Dean, kiss me." Sam said as he turned his upper body toward Dean, grabbing the front of his shirt in one hand, "Just trust me and kiss me, dammit." Sam told him, before crushing his lips to Dean's, as his free hand reached for Dean's hand and Sam brought it to his groin, making Dean touch him as he bucked his hips into Dean's palm.

Dean was pretty sure Sam had snapped. "Not the time," he said, pulling his mouth free and about to shove Sam to safety when the demon was on them, screaming and ranting as she started to break them apart

Sam released Dean's hand and stretched out his hand toward the demon. 

Suddenly she was coughing and sputtering as black demon smoke poured from her lips, her body sinking to the floor and falling into a heap on the floor. 

Sam pulled his head back slightly, his eyes slowly sliding closed. He smiled sleepily. "Now, you can go." he murmured, before slumping against Dean, asleep. His energy completely spent, he was back to sleep, unable to do anything, unable to move, until he was once again brought around by the sexual, sensual touches of the one he was meant to be with. 

"What the..." easily catching Sam, Dean continued to stare at body at their feet. "You didn't exorcise... you..." Suddenly realizing it wasn't just _some_ of Sam's weight, but all of it that he was carrying, Dean held him, gritted his teeth under the strain but got him onto the bed. Letting out a breath, he went back to his bag. A minute later, he'd dumped a whole bottle of holy water right into Sam's face and was sagging with relief. Killing him would have been... tough. _Unthinkable_.

Sam knew Dean had poured the water in his face, though he was unable to react to it, unable to ask him why he had done it, unable to explain anything. _Kiss me. Touch me._ Would Dean do it again? Or would he now, knowing the demon was gone, simply leave him here.... to sleep for another century...alone?

"Sam? Sam?" Dean wiped the water off the brunette's face, and looked over at the girl. She hadn't touched him. He hadn't hurt his head, he'd just... "The hell... you fainted?" 

No, he was asleep, looking peaceful and as if none of this had happened. What was he dealing with here? Did he even know? Sam hadn't attacked him, he'd protected him... but the power he'd wielded, used on the demon... the stories were true. Would he be doing the world a favor or damning it to hell by waking him?

He strode away, and started throwing his stuff into his bag, occasionally looking back at Sam, doubts gnawing at him. Maybe it would be better if he stayed asleep. No one had been able to wake him all these years, till now. It looked like even the demons couldn't, not unless the "right" person came along. So this could be the safest bet. 

An icy coldness blossomed in the pit of Dean's stomach. Cursing, he strode back, gripped Sam's shoulders and pulled him up as he melded their mouths together in a furious kiss. He put all his confused feeling, his worries, his frustration... all of it, into the kiss, and stopped worrying about anything else.

Sam moaned into the kiss, his tongue slipping into Dean's mouth. Slowly his hand rose to cup the back of Dean's neck as his free hand moved to fist in Dean's shirt. He hadn't left him, hadn't abandoned him to another century of nothingness, of sleep, of being alone. He was here, warm and soft, and hard all at once and perfect. 

Another moan escaped Sam as the kiss continued. He tugged at Dean's shirt, wanting him, wanting more of him, needing him. Their lips parted as they both gasped for air, "Please..." Sam begged before they were kissing again. Sam's hand on Dean's neck, sliding into his hair, fisting the short soft strands as his other hand fisting Dean's shirt tightened it's grip, knuckles going white. _Please..._

"Right here. Right here Sam," he answered, kissing harder as he was tugged close. Knowing Sam wanted more of that 'sex stuff.' God... He pushed his palm under that tight tee shirt he was wearing, and started to move it in circular motions, each time just a bit closer to his cock. Then he gave him some pressure, where he needed it, swallowing his moans, muffling them, and stopping only when Sam seemed to have all of his movement back. "You're wet." 

Slowly, Sam started to awaken completely, one leg bending at the knee, heel sliding against the bed, as Dean touched, caressed and pressed on him, then slowly sliding it back down. He was moaning and groaning against Dean's lips, the sounds swallowed up in their kiss. 

Then, Dean stopped...again. Sam looked up at him, panting out his breaths. _Why did he keep stopping!? He was obviously enjoying this too._ "Then you shouldn't have dumped water on my face."

Clearing his throat, Dean was wiping the moisture that had transferred from Sam's face to his. "We need to get out of here, and then you and I gotta talk. I don't understand this... I woke you up. Why's this happening to you? Something's wrong." 

Sam frowned as he pulled up, sitting in the bed. He shook his head as he looked at Dean, "Nothing is wrong, Dean. You are..." Sam licked his lips, looking away, tried to think of a better word, better term, one that wouldn't have Dean freaking out again. "The one who I was meant to meet." There that was better than, 'perfect mate', 'soul mate', 'the chosen one', or any of the other terms he had heard used to describe the one who would awaken him. 

He looked back at Dean then, "I told you before, I need..." Sam's eyes regarded him for a few moments as his tongue darted out to lick his lips, "I need your touch..." Sam shrugged, "It's part of the," he frowned, "spell."

"I touched you already plenty."

"I must have continual sexual stimulation from the one who awakens me, to remain awake," he took a deep breath, his head hanging, "Otherwise, I shall return to sleep." He looked up at Dean to gage his reaction to that. "Using my powers drains me more than just regular activities, though I need constant touch throughout the day to remain awake for very long." 

He pulled from the bed then, moving to stand toe to toe with Dean. He looked down at him. "That bothers you, doesn't it?" he asked him softly.

Dean nodded and looked away, at the wall behind him. "I figured I would take you somewhere safe and leave. I have a life. I save people. I move around. It's what I do, and this...” his hand gestured back and forth between their bodies, “ it's not really me." He looked down and grabbed the bag. "We'll figure it out. Let's get out of here."  
Sam sighed and nodded. "There is a legend." he started, waiting to see if Dean would turn back to face him. He licked his lips, "There is an amulet and if we find it, it can make it so that I no longer need..." he looked down, smirked slightly at his erection and shrugged before looking back up at Dean. He shook his head, "I do not know where it is however. Twas only a legend I overheard the villagers talk about, and that was... years...ago." Sam told him, as he slowly looked back up at Dean.

Hearing the catch in Sam's voice, he looked back at him. "Don't be sad. We'll find it, and then you won't need to be kissed every three and a half minutes." 

It was hard to be abrupt to Sam, and he didn't like seeing him hurt. That was a surprise... how much he cared about his feelings. "Come on." Still no smile. "Anyone ever tell you you're the stuff legends are made of?" Yeah... corny...

What would Dean think if he knew he wasn't sad because he needed to be kissed, 'every three and a half minutes', but rather because Dean obviously didn't want to have to do it?   
Tilting his head to the side and giving a slight smile, he answered, "You're not so bad either," and followed him out the door.

They made their way down the tower steps, which happened to be a hell of a lot more stairs than one would think possible. Every time they were sure the end was just around the corner, they ended up at more stairs. Finally, after what seemed like... well, Sam wasn't sure, he had no real handle on time anymore, only counting things by years and centuries, they reached the bottom. 

The room that the stairs emptied out in was just a huge empty area, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and across a few pieces of furniture. The large wooden castle door was before them and as they approached it, there was no handle and no obvious way to open it. Then Sam spotted a lever to the side and pulled it before Dean had a chance to tell him yay or nay. 

The castle door lowered into a drawbridge over a mote. Sam looked over at Dean and smirked. "See? I told you... the legend of the sleeping Boy King and his Prince. They'll tell this story for centuries to come."

Having not missed the [i]his Prince[/i], Dean gave him a look. "Let's see what they have to say about the Prince's horse." Shaking his head, he rushed Sam over the drawbridge, looking back only to take a look at the castle without all those dark thorns all over it. "I guess we can't keep it... damn."

He gestured toward the love of his life - his car, got inside and opened the passenger door. "Sam... get in." He saw the tall man looking suspiciously at the car. "If you faint on my car... so help me..." 

Sam eyed the car warily. He knew that things had to have changed from when he was young. Back then everyone traveled by horse. But this thing... He remembered hearing things, noises of machines go by, but this was what they were? 

He looked at Dean when he mentioned fainting and frowned, "Faint?" he huffed, "Only women get the vapors, Dean." he told him firmly before looking back at the car again. "Get into it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Slowly he tried to fit between the narrow area where the door was opened, only to have it open further. Sam looked over at Dean. "I didn't mean to break it!" 

Giving him the 'you've got to be kidding' look, Dean shook his head.

Once he understood that he hadn't broken the door, that it was...well, a door, just like any other door, Sam sighed and nodded, folding himself into the front seat and looking around. "It's... nice," he offered with a small smile.

"It likes to be petted. And kissed. Right there," Dean pointed at the dashboard, and slid his gaze back to Sam. 

Sam looked at Dean as though he had grown a second head. "It does!?" he looked around the car, eyes wide, then back at Dean. "It's...alive?" Sam asked him, raising up off the seat and looking down at it, before slowly lowering himself back down. 

Slowly Sam reached a hand out and ran it slowly over the dash board, as he looked the dash board over, ducking his head, then raising it again to see every inch of the dash. He glanced at Dean. "What part am I petting." he whispered, before leaning forward slightly and glancing at Dean again. He thought it was sort of odd that Dean thought he needed to pet and kiss his ride, but, he knew that there were temperamental horses back in his time, and some required a loving touch to do as they were instructed. 

Sam made kissing noises at the car, whistled low, as one would a horse, before leaning over and placing a soft kiss on the dash. A loud thunderous sound suddenly shot out of the thing, making Sam jump backward, arms wide, one holding onto Dean's shoulder the other the roof of the car, eyes wide, his heart hammering in his chest, as he stared at the dashboard.

Shaking with laughter, Dean twisted the knob back, lowering the volume. "See now THAT... That's the story that needs to be told for centuries to come. The Boy King who wasn't afraid of the demon but jumped at the sound of the tape... music." Slugging him, he grinned. "Relax, and let's... ride on outta here."


	4. Chapter 4

By the time they got to Dean's motel a few hours later, Sam was running out of energy. Dean had kissed him a couple of times, but more than that hadn't been possible when they were on the move. Now that they were in the room, staring at one bed, and in a closed space, Dean found he was a bit nervous. No... a lot nervous. "You wanna go eat?"

Sam slumped into a chair and looked up at Dean. "Eat?" How long had it been since he had eaten anything? His eyelids drooping, Sam leaned an elbow on the table, his face in his hand. "Nah, I just need a..." Sam's head started to fall, his eyes slowly closing. He smirked slightly, "I don't know when the last time I ate was." he snickered softly, before his arm slowly slid out from under his head, his head ending up bowed forward as his arm flopped out onto the table.

"Aww man, not again." Dean looked at him half frustrated half amused. Okay mostly frustrated. This was like having a baby on his hands, one he had to nurse every so often. "Is there a wet nurse for this?" he groused.

Yeah, he kinda knew he'd have to put out. Again. Like that had ever been a problem for Dean Winchester, but with a guy? At least it wasn't as unpleasant as it could be, and fuck no, he wasn't gonna think about how good it could be. 

Ducking inside the bathroom, he turned the shower on. On his way back to Sam, he shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on the bed, then stood next to Sam. Taking a deep breath, he stroked his hair a few times, wondering at how soft and silky the strands were compared to his courser hair. Then he pushed Sam back up to a sitting position, cupping his chin so his face wouldn't flop forward. 

It wasn't normal for your lips to burn and throb, before you kissed. Or to feel a thrill go through you at the thought you could animate someone just by turning them on. Or to have your stomach tighten at the thought that everything you did, everything, turned the other person on. So he wasn't gonna think it or feel it. He was just gonna do his job... wake the Boy King.

Sam could hear the frustration in Dean's voice and the comment about a wet nurse. But he was unable to say anything, unable to tell Dean he was sorry that it was this way. When the spell had been cast on him all those years ago, somehow, Sam had come to believe that the one who could wake him would actually WANT to wake him, to be with him, to touch him and well, yeah, have sex with him. He hadn't expected this...

Dean kissed the corner of Sam's mouth, carefully... slowly, then moved across it, brushing his lips back and forth. "Open for me," he said, finally pushing his tongue inside the warm, moist cavern of Sam's mouth. His entire body reacted, hardened. Come on Sam, wake for me... He started to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue in and out, engaging Sam's. As he felt him stirring, he moved his hand under Sam's shirt, touching him. "Don't you want to get naked?" he whispered. 

As Dean's tongue pushed past Sam's lips and began to stir his own into movement, into kissing Dean back, Sam began to awaken slightly. He felt Dean's hand dip under his shirt, touching him, his chest. At the question, Sam's heart leapt inro his throat, but he could hear water... Was he going to get into water...WITH Dean? Naked?   
The thought of that pushed Sam to kiss Dean harder, his tongue slipping into and out of Dean's mouth rhythmically. Sam moaned softly, his eyes just barely opening, he gazed at Dean's face, so close to his from under lowered lashes. _Yes, I do,_ he mentally answered Dean's question, _with you._ , though Dean wouldn’t here him. 

Sam's hand on the table slowly began to rise, until he finally had his arm up, off the table and wrapped around Dean, his other hand cupping the back of Dean's neck. "I still can't get out of the chair," Sam told him softly, as their lips parted for a moment, both breathing a little heavily. Sam licked his lips, enjoying the taste of Dean.

"Maybe one more then." Dean was about to lean in again when the look in Sam's eyes stopped him. It was that look he got when he was about to deliver a zinger...

Sam smirked slightly, lazily then, "Maybe you could give me a blow job...?" Sam pulled his head further back and looked at Dean, "You do know what that is, don't you?" he asked him eyebrow raised. "It's when you take my dick into your mouth and....well, pretty much suck and lick a lot." Sam told him, still grinning as he gazed up into Dean's eyes.

"Of course I know what a blow job is, I've been getting them since--" He'd straightened and was frowning down at Sam. "What the hell do you take me for? *I* haven't been sleeping for centuries." Seriously, did he look like the kind of guy that had no clue about sex? Did he have to prove...

Sam had to bite back the laughter that bubbled up inside him.

His eyes narrowed. Sam was playing him, the way he had from the first time they'd met in a dream. Okay, he couldn't really blame him, he guessed. "Put your arms up." He was more than pleased that the smile on Sam's face turned a bit worried, and he wasn't about to explain either. As he pulled the shirt up over Sam's face, he straddled him on the chair and once the shirt cleared his face, he plastered himself again Sam. His ass ground against Sam's groin, his chest pressed against Sam's and his mouth moved over Sam's... not at all like foreplay, but as if they'd been at it for a while and were about to get down and dirty.

The shirt was only half way up and over his head when he felt Dean straddle him, front to front and Sam couldn't suppress the small groan that escaped his lips. Dean was crushing him, his rear end wiggling against Sam's erection trapped under the cloth of his pants, Dean's tongue in his mouth, his in Dean's. _Good God, he could stay like this forever....okay minus his pants and Dean's pants, but still...._

Wrapping his arms around Dean, Sam leaned back in the chair so he could thrust himself up against Dean's hard little ass grinding against him. _Holy fuck...._

"More." Sam tried to say against Dean's lips, but the word was swallowed up, sounding more like just a groan.

Dean pushed everything out of his mind but how this felt... at first it was about how he was making Sam feel, how he was drawing out one response, then another. Something about the way he clung to him, needed him, made him warm on the inside... in places he didn't even know about. Maybe this was how a parent felt about a child who depended on them, maybe....

Ah... wrong. Because suddenly it wasn't just about Sam clinging to him. Dean found himself rubbing his own erection up against Sam's washboard abs, and groaning his name. They were rocking so hard against each other, the chair was in danger of breaking. "Sam... Sammy... oh God," he moving his mouth over Sam's and tongue fucked him the same way their bodies were grinding against each other. Heat pooled low in his stomach, making him grind harder... seek more pressure. Fuck... this wasn't the plan...

Sam gasped and moaned, thrusting against Dean harder, his arms tightening around him, as though desperate to keep him there, the fingertips of one hand digging into Dean's back as his tongue continued to rub and flick against Dean's, the kiss deepening even more until their teeth were colliding, the kiss desperate. 

The chair tipped back on two legs, leaning against the wall, shifting them just enough that the pressure increased as Sam continued to thrust hard against Dean. The kiss broke only so they could gasp in more air, Sam gazed into Dean's green eyes for that split second, his name a breathless whisper, before his lips were on Dean's once more. 

If this continued, Dean thought he was gonna go mad. He started to get up, leaned in and stole another hard kiss, and then stood up. Without saying a word, he hooked his fingers inside the waistband of Sam's trousers and pulled him clear up off the seat, and started to undo them. As he dragged them down Sam's hips, he landed a wet kiss right under his belly button. Sam's hands went to Dean's head, his fingers tangling in the stands for just that short moment. 

By the time he moved back, Sam was stepping out of the pants. His eyes widened. "You go commando." 

Sam tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at Dean, his breathing was still a bit ragged. "Commando?" he asked him.

Mouth a bit dry, he cleared his throat. He really didn't need to be staring at cock... even if it had felt great pressed up against his ass. "Come on, you're getting into the shower. You do know what that is?" 

Sam still looked confused, "I've heard the term, and I know it won't kill a person, because I heard the same voice the next day, saw them... But can I tell you what it is?... no." Sam told him before tilting his head and smiling, "Are you going to 'shower' with me?" he asked, one hand on his hip.

Dean stared at him for a long moment. "Yeah. Get in there." 

Dean's answer surprised him, but he fought to not let it show.

He knew Sam was trying to get the upper hand again, and it pissed him off. He started to walk the taller man backwards, until he was in the shower. "Blow job, right? Then you'll stay awake?" 

Sam was looking around and taking in the wonders of this 'shower' when Dean's question had him looking at only him.

Not waiting for the answer, Dean stepped into the shower after Sam, fully clothed and reaching for the soap. 

Hazel eyes followed the movement of Dean's hand to the soap and Sam chuckled, “You're going to wash me?" Sam shook his head, though he held out an arm for Dean to begin, "I assure you, I am clean. I've been washed over the years." Sam was still chuckling softly about that as he looked at Dean, "Do you not notice that I don't smell of horse or leather, of mold or mildew? Maidens, ones chosen upon their sixteenth year washed me." he shrugged, "Twas to bring the maiden's family good luck, or so the legend goes."

"A. There aren't many maidens around these days, trust me," Dean laughed under his breath. "B. If you smelled of horse or any of that other crap, I'd have left your ass in that castle, and C. I'm gonna make damn sure any dick that goes between my lips is clinically clean." Maybe if he told himself a couple more times that he was going through with this, it would be easier.

Sam frowned as he listened to Dean. _Not many maidens? But, he had seen..._   
He smirked at the next thing Dean said, but quickly hid it as he licked his lips and nodded. He wouldn't have blamed Dean for that...had he smelled like any of those other things he likely would have made himself sick. 

When Dean spoke of taking his dick between his lips, Sam bit his lip, looking down at the tiled floor. Was this a joke or was Dean serious? He hadn't really thought....   
As Dean started to soap his chest and back, Sam's eyes slid closed as he tilted his head back up, enjoying the feel of his calloused hands on his skin. 

Sam smirked, but didn't open his eyes, "Do you always wear your clothes into the...shower?"

"It's like armor." Dean moved a little slower as he got lower down Sam's body, but then thought what the hell. He'd started this and he'd damn well finish it, even if it was to avoid adding to Sam's amusement. Trying not to lose his smile, he lathered up and slid his hands over Sam's ass cheeks, and then between them... and damn if his pants weren't getting tight all over again... and not only because of the water. 

Sam smirked wider at Dean's armor comment. He licked his lips, "So, does that meant you plan to slay me a dragon, Sir Knight?" Sam asked him, lips pulled into a smirk, brow quirked. 

As Dean's hands reached around to rub over his ass, the muscles clenched and when his hands slid between his ass cheeks, Sam shifted his weight as he reached out toward Dean with one hand, only to let it fall back to his side.

Dean moved to Sam's groin and tried to be quick, but as his fist moved up and down Sam's shaft, he found himself lingering... his arm tingling as Sam hardened, thickening and lengthening in his hand. 

Sam moaned softly at the feel of Dean's hand on his cock, the slip slide of the motion made easier by the soap. Sam's hands bunched into fists at his sides as he bit his lip, his head tilting back a bit further, exposing his throat fully.

The sounds Sam made echoed off the tile walls. Dean found himself breathing hard and listening for the next sound, and the next. When he touched Sam's thighs, he felt how rock hard they got as Sam strained and tensed. He pressed his mouth against Sam's thigh, skimming over his water slicked skin to his inner thigh, very aware that his head kept touching Sam's cock as he scrubbed his legs. 

As Dean continued to stroke him, Sam tried not to do anything to scare him away. Wanting, needing him to finish this. He moaned, breaths coming faster as his lips parted, tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip. 

The muscles of his arms, his legs, hell most of his body were strained, taunt with need, arousal, and the fight not to do more, to hold perfectly still as Dean's mouth made contact with his thigh. Sam gasped softly, waiting.... hoping he wouldn't end this again before his body was ready for this to end. He felt Dean's hands on his legs, caressing, rubbing the soap on him, then Dean leaned in, must have as he felt his cock brush against Dean's head and Sam's breath caught in his throat. 

Then he felt Dean's lips on his inner thigh. Felt the suction and tried to widen his stance as he moaned again. _Oh please...please don't stop....._

On his knees, Dean leaned in and mentally cursed himself for keeping his jeans on. They'd gotten wet and hard, and were extremely uncomfortable, squeezing his thighs and knees every time he moved. He licked his way up higher along the columns of Sam’s powerful thighs, stopping to suck on wet skin... maybe he was buying time, maybe he was waiting for courage. Either way, Sam wasn't complaining.  
Sam gasp softly as he bit his lip to stifle the words of encouragement he wanted to say, the sounds of pleasure that wanted to escape. He lowered his head, watching Dean through heavy lidded hazel eyes, hands clutching and unclutching into fists at his sides. 

Dean looked up and saw the naked desire in Sam's expression. His gut clenched at the thought that someone needed him... that much. Nodding, giving him a reassuring smile, he extended his tongue and licked his way up to Sam's balls, stabbing the sensitive spot behind them until he felt Sam's balls tighten and draw up. Opening his mouth, he sucked his sack, massaging it with the flat of his tongue. When he sensed Sam might move, might pull his head closer, he reached up and caught both Sam’s hands. Threading his fingers through Sam's, he held tight, and started to work his balls, imagining what he would like himself, and giving Sam the product of his imagination.

Sam's lips parted in a silent gasp, "Yes..." the only word to escape, more a hissed breath of air than a word. As Dean's tongue reached his balls an involuntary shudder wracked his body, a soft moan tore from him before he clamped his lips together, the pink flesh turning nearly white with the pressure as Dean's tongue stabbed at a sensitive area behind them.

As Dean suckled him, Sam's breathing became faster, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. No longer able to keep still, Sam tried to move his hands to Dean's head, to sink his fingers in the soft short wet strands, to pull him closer, needing more of him, more of that hot wet mouth, only to have Dean stop him by refusing to release his hands. A whimper sounded deep in his throat as he tightened his grip on Dean's hands while Dean worked his balls. 

"Oh God...please..." Sam moaned out the words, eyes closing as his head tilted back once more, straight white teeth catching his bottom lip.

The way Sam was gripping his hands, the way he bucked closer and plead so sweetly, Dean almost felt the Boy King's absolute hunger wash over him. It was intoxicating... empowering. He would have tortured him some more, but something caught in his heart, and he just couldn't... not now. With a bit of difficulty, he maneuvered his mouth over Sam's cock and took his crown. Swirling his tongue, he slid it back and forth over his slit, and then started to pulse against Sam's tip, each time a little harder. Still, he never let go of Sam's hands... it was electrifying... like being plugged into Sam and catching every one of his desperate reactions as he clutched his hand and writhed.

Sam's breath hissed between his teeth as he tightened his grip and squeezed his eyes shut. Dean's tongue started to pulse against the tip of his cock, each time harder than the last and Sam groaned, bit into his lip as his hips bucked slightly. "Oh yes..." he moaned his head lifting as his eyes opened, looking down at Dean, his breaths panting out of his slightly parted lips, the bottom lip red from biting it.

Taking more of him in, Dean sucked lightly, exploring Sam's texture and taste. He was so hard, and yet so soft... his skin stretched tight over his cock and so fucking silky smooth and wet. Dean swore Sam was pulsing in his mouth. He started to humm, and almost smiled at the intensity of Sam's reaction. 

Sam's hips bucked and his head tossed back as he gasped loudly. "By all the Saints in heaven...good God...." he groaned softly.

Bringing one hand still clasped with Sam's down, he positioned Sam's cock, and held it while he took most of him in his mouth and sucked off with a loud pop. His entire body clenched in reaction. "Like that?" He knew the answer even as he moved to take him again.

_What!? Why? No, no, don't stop...._ Sam pulled his head up, heavy lidded hazel eyes gazed down at Dean as he spoke. Before Sam could even force words past his lips, make a coherent thought form to do so, that deliciously sinful mouth was back. "Aye... Dean, aye, do not stop....please." he moaned softly, his head slowly falling back again, breaths panting out. "Close, so..." he moaned softly, "close," he told him as his hips moved, thrusting his cock into and out of Dean's hot wet mouth as he grit his teeth, eyes squeezed closed once more.

Swept up in Sam's desperation, and needing more of it, more evidence of how out of control he was, Dean didn't stop, didn't think about stopping. He sucked harder, just to feel the strength of Sam's reaction, to draw out more of that 'old world' talk out of him. The sounds Sam made echoed and broke around him, driving Dean to work Sam even harder, until he felt Sam literally riding his mouth. Sam was pushing him back, forcing more of himself in his mouth. Dean tightened his fingers around Sams, but took it... took everything Sam dished out, couldn't have said no... not now.

As the suction on his cock became harder, feeling as though his very being were going to be sucked out of him and into Dean's hot waiting mouth, Sam groaned low and long, his hips bucking faster, starting to become erratic in their intensity. Moans, groans, gasps and even growls fell from Sam's lips as Dean drew him ever closer to completion, ever closer to losing himself in something he had not experienced since he was a mere lad, centuries ago. "Holy Mother of God..." he groaned, as his eyes opened slightly, looking down at Dean through his lashes, breaths panting out through rosy lips. 

Sam felt the heat pool low in his belly, his balls drawing up, even as his cock swelled inside Dean's mouth. "Aye, Prince Dean, do not stop! I -I.... Oh sweet merciful..."  
And then he was coming, the first jet of his hot come shooting down Dean's throat, as Sam cried out his name, head tilted back, eyes squeezed closed tight, hips bucking hard, erratic, feverishly. His orgasm continued until he wasn't sure if it would stop before he simply blacked out from the pleasure of it. Slowly, aftershocks of pleasure rippling through his body, Sam raised his head, eyes opening to look down at Dean. "I thinketh thou knowst witchcraft." he sighed softly, before slumping back against the shower wall.

"Sam, baby, since I'm the one on my knees... I think you got that one backwards on who is doing the witchcraft." His light words were belied by the heavy breaths he took. Tilting his head back, he let his mouth fill with water, swirled and spit it out. A throat full of spunk had not been what he'd expected, but it wasn't bad. The intensity with which Sam shot his cum, on the other hand... hell, it even had Dean twisted up inside. 

Sam gave Dean a lopsided grin at his words as he swallowed and tried to get his breathing under control.

Releasing Sam's hands, he gripped his body and climbed up to a standing position. "Your freakishly tall height? I think you're proportional..." he chuckled, still breathless and suddenly finding his tired, aching mouth, burning for a kiss. 

Sam grinned but looked away somewhat shyly, the color of his cheeks growing to a darker shade of pink. Taking a deep breath, he moved his hand to Dean’s hip and slowly looked down into Dean's face, into those emerald green eyes. Using his thumb, he traced the contours of Dean's bottom lip slowly. "I didn't mean to..." he smiled shyly again, eyes on those full luscious lips, "Thou simply made me lose control." he told him softly. 

He wasn't sure who leaned in first, and wasn't all that certain that it mattered, but in the next instant, Sam's lips were crushed to Dean's, his tongue exploring that wet heat that had moments before encased his aching flesh. He could taste himself within Dean's mouth still, though he had rinsed and spit. The flavor of himself mixed with Dean, he decided was intoxicating. 

He pulled his lips from Dean's though they remained close enough that his lips brushed Dean's as he spoke, "If you wouldst like it, I can..." Sam bit his lip, "return in kind." 

The whispered offer sent blood surging to his cock, and Dean found himself pressing his wet jeans against Sam's bare body. Every cell in his body was screaming for him to go for it, to find release. "I don't want to get used to this," he answered without thinking. Hands slightly shaking, he put them between their bodies and used them to push himself away, and step out of the shower. 

Sam sighed softly as Dean pressed himself against his body, was about to reach for the closings on Dean's breeches, when Dean's words stopped him. Sam's features hardened slightly as he gave Dean a cut nod, muscle twitching in his jaw. Hazel eyes followed Dean's movements as he stepped from the shower.

The longing with which he stared at Sam's face and chiseled body scared him, and he closed the fogged up shower door and took a deep breath. The floor was getting drenched under him, and yet he couldn't think for the moment what to do about it.

The door now separating them, Sam released the breath he'd been holding, hands clenching at his sides as he looked heavenward, then hung his head, shaking it. After a few moments, he opened the shower door and picked up the cloth Dean had set out for him to dry with. Drying his hair first, then his body, before tying the towel loosely at his hips.   
With a sigh, he walked from the room to grab up his breeches and the shirt that Dean had brought for him, dressing quickly. 

* 

After another ride in Dean's metal horse that he referred to as an Impala, they were walking into an establishment. Sam's eyes scanned the interior of the place as they stood just inside the door. He watched as Dean spoke with a blond haired woman before she told him to follow her. 

Sam frowned at the pair, confused as to why he was to follow her. Sam's eyes widened slightly as he realized what she must be and he remained standing at the door as Dean and the woman walked off, only to have Dean come back after a moment and grab his jacket yanking him along with him. 

"Nay, seriously, I do not want to do this with you. Tis not... I am not... I've never paid for..." Sam's words trailed off as Dean stopped with him in front of a table where the woman stood. He looked from the table to the woman, to Dean frowning in confusion. Sure, he knew prostitutes did things that other women didn't but...

"A meal?" Dean asked, wondering what the hell was wrong with Sam.

Sam watched as Dean took a seat and as soon as he did the woman walked away. Watching her go, Sam slowly sank into the chair opposite Dean. Tearing his gaze away from the woman, he looked at Dean. "She is not... you were not buying a nights pleasure from her?" he asked him.

"A what! What the fuck... do I look like I need to pay for it?" Heat practically leaped out of his eyes. Where did Sam make this stuff up about him not knowing how to do sexual 'stuff' as he called it, and now practically accusing him of being so hard up he'd pay for it. Through clenched teeth, he explained about waitresses, flashing an extra warm smile at the one who was approaching.

When a second woman walked up to ask them what they wanted and Dean once again smiled too brightly at her, Sam was still confused about it. However, when it came to ordering food, he knew he could do accomplish that task. Sam looked up at her, offering her a wide, dimple filled smile as he answered her question, "I shall have a tankard of ale and a plate of last nights kill." he told her with a nod.

The waitress raised an eyebrow and popped her gum.

Dean cleared his throat. "What he means is, he'll have a hamburger and fries, and beer. Make that two... and you got pie?" When she nodded and turned the menu over, his face practically lit up as he selected two different ones.

When she left, Dean raised both his arms up and let them drop to his sides. "Dude... ‘Last night's kill’?" 

Sam looked at Dean when his voice penetrated his wonder over why she had looked at him the way she had... as though he were....well, simple. He shrugged in response to Dean's question. "What's wrong with asking for the previous night's kill?" he asked him and then a thought occurred to him he hadn't thought of before. "Oh, can you not afford a meal so extravagant?" Sam asked him, “I only wanted us to have the best, and after what you had just done, I thought mayhap you needed your nourishment." Sam told him.

"Yeah you wore me out," he answered with a touch of sarcasm, though Sam didn't seem to notice.

Sam took a breath and eyed Dean, "And you really shouldn't eat a lot of pie...tis bad for you and makes one slow, not fit and lean." Sam told him matter-of-factly.

Dean patted his gut, and looked at Sam, eyes wide. "You think I'm slow and not lean?" What the hell? When had he been slow, and where was he putting on weight? "Look pal, I eat plenty of pie and if you don't like where it's all going... fine. Wasn't what you were saying earlier though," he ended with a heated huff. 

Sam shrugged, "I didn't say there was anything wrong with the way you look...not yet...but if you keep eating pie...." Sam raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Not to mention," Sam continued, even as the waitress brought over their beers, "You have yet to allow me to see you fully with out clothes." The waitress paused and looked from one to the other, popped her gum, then turned and walked away.

Dean wasn't sure whether he was seething or squirming, or even if there was a difference at the moment. 

Sam watched her go with a frown before looking back at Dean, "What's wrong with her?" he asked him, before picking up the bottle and frowning at it. "I have seen such things," Sam told him, looking up at Dean from the bottle, then back, "But I don't understand the purpose."

"Purpose. I'll show you its purpose." Deliberately keeping his gaze locked with Sam's, Dean licked around the mouth of the bottle, stabbed the tip of his tongue into it, then sucked the bottle neck into his mouth, sliding back and forth, before lifting it up to take a few pulls of the beer. When he set it down, it down he had the distinct satisfaction that he'd gotten the upper hand back. 

Sam's mouth went dry as Dean showed him the purpose of placing ones drink inside a glass bottle. His dick twitched in his breeches as he watched Dean's tongue, remembering earlier when he had been in the place that the lucky bottle was now. Swallowing hard, Sam tore his gaze away after Dean took a long drink from the bottle. He stared at the floor in front of him for a few moments, until a thought came to him. Dean had done that just to get to him. He was... what did they call them now?...a tease. 

He looked back at Dean as he loosely took the neck of the bottle in his fist, "So tell me if I get this right." he told Dean, waiting until he had his attention. Once he did, Sam kept his eyes locked with Dean's while he leaned down, running his tongue around the rim of the bottle, flicked the end of his tongue against the top of the bottle, eyes lids lowering to mere slits as he watched Dean. 

He moved his head down slightly, running his tongue up the outside of the bottle, all the way up the side, before taking the bottle neck into his mouth deeply, then pulling his head back only to lower once more, over and over as his hand worked the lower part of the bottle up and down. 

After a few moments, Sam moaned softly, then tightening his grip on the lower part of the bottle, Sam pressed his lips to the rim and lifted the bottle, drinking down the contents. He didn't stop until the bottle was completely empty and never once did he spill a single drop. Placing the bottle back onto the table with a long heavy sigh, Sam looked at Dean, tilting his head to the side, "So, was it something like that?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. All Dean could hear now was Sam's offer in the shower, and all he could see was his own dick sucked and milked the way Sam did to the bottle. His heart was racing, his cock was so hard and heavy, you'd think he was back in the shower... God dammit, he didn't want Sam to affect him like this. 

"Oh, honey, I'm sure you got it right," the waitress said in a breathy voice, setting their plates down, then putting a hand on Sam's shoulder. "And if he doesn't take you back to his room, trust me... I will." 

Sam's eyes widened as he frowned thoughtfully at the offer, looking at Dean and tilting his head to the side.

Dean glared until she left, then turned his eyes to Sam. "I hate you. Bitch." Pouring ketchup on his burger, he took a big mouthful, anything to keep his mouth busy, and his mind off the show Sam had put on.

"You hate me!? Why? SHE apparently thought I did well. What? That wasn't good enough for you?" Sam shook his head as he reached down and picked up a french fry from his plate, staring at it with a frown. 

He looked back over at Dean, "And these would be...?" he asked raising a brow.

"Fries. Potatoes."

Taking a small bite of one, Sam nodded. "Not horrid, I suppose." he agreed, then reached for the red stuff Dean had put on his meal. 

After finding that he really liked that stuff on his fries, Sam poured more onto his plate, dipping every single fry into the sauce, then slowly licking and sucking his fingers clean each time. He only glanced over at Dean a handful of times to gauge his reaction, which he actually thought was pretty good considering the amount of times he had licked and sucked his fingers.

Dean was chewing so hard, his teeth were in danger of cracking. And yet he couldn't drag his eyes away, couldn't help imagining Sam's mouth on him.

"So," Sam began as he sucked and licked his fingers clean for the last time, "Do you want to tell me why you don't want me to do sexual things for you? Do you not like sex? You seemed to before..." he shrugged, "Especially in the dreams." he grinned over at Dean, between wiping his hands on the napkin.

"I like sex as good as the next guy," he snapped. "With girls... women, not guys, dammit." But his body had made a liar out of him so many times already, at least with Sam. Had to be a spell, had to. "Did you walk around doing dudes in your time?" He pointed his ketchup tipped french fry at Sam. "I bet you didn't. I bet you know exactly why I can't... won't... hell, sometimes you get me so damned mixed up," he muttered, and put the damn fry in his mouth, viciously cutting it in half.

Sam's smile fell into a look that was completely serious, "Dean, I was sixteen when the spell was cast on me." Sighing, he hung his head for a moment, before looking back up at Dean, "You are right, I have never been with a man...I have never been with a woman either. I was a virgin when the spell was cast, Dean." he told him, before looking away once again a slight pink stain coloring his cheeks. Looking back at Dean, Sam pointed out, "I never said I didn't think about it, never said I didn't know how. I said I had never DONE it. There IS a difference."

Dean opened his mouth... then shut it. He searched Sam's face for any signs that he was joking. "You're a virgin. I just gave a blow job to a virgin." For an instant, he didn't know how to feel about it, but then he started to laugh. 

"So all that talk about stuff you want to do with me is bull shit, right?" Yeah, the reality was Sam was just taking what he needed to be alive, and Dean totally got that. He slapped Sam's shoulder. "It's alright virgin boy, you're in luck... I'll keep being gentle." Course he wasn't about to mention the fact his own mouth had been virgin territory... at least to cock! 

Sam frowned and shook his head. "No, what I said to you, I meant. I want to do all those things with you, Dean. You are the one I was meant to be with. It's part of the spell, the only one who could wake me is my perfect mate...you." he told him, then hazel eyes met green and didn't look away as he continued, "I want to kiss every inch of your body, lick and suck and nip at it, then take your cock in my mouth and do to you what I did to this damn bottle...only better. I want you to be my first lover." He blinked then, looking away, "But I know it is not what you want. I may not be from this time, and I may not know what a radio is, or your Impala, but I know when someone doesn't want me." He looked back at Dean angrily, "I'm not simple." he told him, before rising to his feet and starting toward the door. "I need some air." 

"Sam. Sam!" Dean cursed and waved at the waitress to get their food to go. He tried not to feel guilty, not to let the hollow in his stomach spread. By the time he walked out with the bag in hand, he saw the tall man standing slightly hunched with his hands in his pockets, next to the Impala. He looked so fucking lost. Lost in time. Out of his element. _And he had to be stuck with an asshole like me._


	5. Chapter 5

Dean walked up to him and put the package down on top of the car. "Sam, look at me." He pressed his lips together, definitely not wanting to talk about this but feeling like he had to. "I don't think you're _simple._ I think you're smart... and I have no fucking idea how you picked up so much about what the world is like and all the new words, just like you did, but you have. I..." 

Sam slowly turned his head toward Dean, looking at him through angry eyes. _I picked it up because, for centuries, I was bored. Nothing better to do than listen, watch through eyes that don't open and learn._

Giving a one shouldered shrug, Dean went on. "I think you're funny, especially when I'm hating you for it because yeah... usually I'm the master at making fun," he nodded, it was true. "I'm sorry you were gipped and got stuck with me as your... your... Look, I'm not perfect. Hell, I've been called asshole more times than you can imagine, and I pretty much deserved it most of the time." One corner of his mouth twitched as indecision warred inside him. "It's not exactly that I don't want what you're offering. I just don't _want to want it_. There's a difference." 

Gipped? He deduced that word meant that he had been robbed, but he wasn't sure. Hadn't heard it said very often, if ever before. _Perfect for me._ Sam nodded, "I see. Well, when I fall asleep next time, you can just leave me where I fall. I wouldn't want you to do something you don't want to want to do," he mumbled as he tugged the car door open, folded himself inside and closed it behind him.

That's it? THAT was his answer? "Sonovabitch." Dean got into the car and tossed the bag onto Sam's lap. Without a word, he started the car and headed back in silence.

* * *

In the room, the t.v. provided a bit of a buffer between them. They didn't have to talk. They didn't have to look at each other. They just finished their meals and somehow eventually ended up on the bed, sitting next to each other but apart. 

The T.V. as Dean called it had startled him at first, but as angry as he was at Dean and as much as he was brooding, he managed to only gasped softly as he had stared at the thing for a moment with wide eyes. He took it in stride a bit easier than one would think after the little radio incident.

It was getting later and later, and even though Dean was a night owl, he was getting sleepy. Blowing out a breath, he decided the hell with it. Whether it was awkward or not, he wasn't changing is whole life. He liked to sleep in shorts, it’s what he was gonna do. They'd get by, muddle through this until they found that damned amulet. He had some ideas on places to research, and would hit them up tomorrow.

Standing up, with his back to Sam, he quickly stripped down to his briefs and got under the covers. "Hit the lights and the remote when you're ready to sleep." One arm under his pillow, Dean stared at the t.v., hoping sleep would claim him.

Sam slowly looked over at him with a huff before looking away, back at the T.V. again.   
He sat there, arms crossed over his chest on the side of the bed, his back board straight as he watched, as Dean had called it, a movie, that didn't quite make sense to him. If the person they were running from was trying to kill them, and it was safer to get away in a car, why were all of the men and women always running UP the stairs? He quirked a brow at the screen, but didn't bother to ask about the movie's simplicity level. 

"I think I have slept enough for the rest of my life," he muttered instead with a sigh. Of course, he knew that it was only a matter of time before he fell asleep again. He had been up now for nearly five hours. 

It wasn't an hour later and Sam's lids were beginning to droop as he sat there in the same position, arms still crossed over his chest. His head slowly started to fall forward before he jerked it back up. Lowering his arms, he laid his hands palm flat on the bed, leaning back on them slightly as he kept his attention on the T.V. screen. 

Again, within seconds, his lids began to slowly close, this time, they didn't open as his head tilted back then his arms started to buckle under the weight of his entire body. He was flat on his back sideways on the bed within the next minute, knees bent, feet flat on the floor. His head rolled to one side, then all motion in him ceased save for his breathing and the faint rise and fall of his chest, just as he had been in the castle.

Some time in the middle of the night, Dean woke and found Sam motionless. "Sam?" Dragging the taller man up next to him on the bed, he remembered Sam’s angry last words. "The hell I will," he answered the memory, climbing on top of Sam and unerringly fastening his mouth over those lips that had practically been fucked by a bottle. With that memory firmly in mind, enflaming him, Dean started to kiss him hard, moving his hands under Sam's shirt and stroking his chest, tweaking his nipples. 

Sam's tongue slowly began to move against Dean's as he woke, deepening the kiss. A soft moan lodged in his throat as Dean's hands stroked him.

After he ground his hips down in circles until they both started getting hard, Dean moved his mouth over Sam's ear. "You want to kiss every inch of me? Then wake up and get started, there's a lot of me." His voice was both gruff and tight with emotion. 

Sam's his body reacted instantly, immediately, his hips moving against Dean's though his eyes remained closed, his body still not completely awake. Then he heard the gruff whisper in his ear. The command, the offer, the raw emotion that the voice conveyed. Sam's body reacted once again instantly, his arms moving to wrap around Dean, lids fluttering open as he raised his hips up against Dean's. He sucked in a breath through his teeth biting his lower lip. "Oh God, Dean..." Slowly, he moved his leg, slid it up Dean's leg to wrap around him, before slowly lowering again.

"Got your attention?" The joke pretty much stuck in Dean’s throat as their mouths meshed again in a heated kiss.

Once awake, Sam rolled them, reversing their positions. Hazel eyes gazed into green, seeking the knowledge that he had meant what he had said, before he dipped his head and covered the pulse point at the base of Dean's throat, kissing, nipping then licking the skin gently, before biting harder, sucking on his flesh before moving on to Dean's collar bone. He didn’t stop, he brushed his mouth along Dean’s shoulder down to first one flat male nipple, licking and swirling his around the nub, before sucking softly, nipping and moving on to its twin.

Fire raced through Dean's veins each time Sam touched him. His mouth felt so hot and moist, so freaking good... he couldn't believe Sam hadn't done this before. How did he know? How could he drive him crazy with just the smallest touches if he was... innocent? The thought that Sam's mouth had never been on anyone else suddenly slammed him with new, unexpected feelings. _Mine. That mouth is for me... his hands, his body, all mine._ Arching up toward that mouth, Dean stoked Sam's back, running his hand through his silky hair, tipping his head back as he tried to concentrate on breathing... just breathing.  
He moved lower then, kissing a trail down Dean's stomach, tongue darting out to trace washboard abs, nip at the tender flesh of his belly button, before licking to sooth the pain and letting his tongue dart inside to tease the soft skin.

"Oh fuck... oh fuck, Sam... Sam?" he was squirming like a girl, and didn't know how to stop, short of rolling Sam back under him. But he'd promised... how the hell did he get himself into these sitchs?

Sam moved on then, down to the waistband of Dean's shorts. Digits tucked into the elastic band, ready to pull them down, Sam glanced up at Dean. "Last chance to change your mind." he whispered.

Time stopped for a heartbeat. Last chance. He stared into Sam's eyes, his fingers digging into the taller man's shoulders. At that one moment, he thought if he reached out, he could touch pure love. Which was ridiculous and stupid and so fucking girly and... "YES!" he shouted over the scary voices in his head.

Sam let out the breath he had been holding as he nodded, tearing his gaze from Dean's, he looked back down at Dean's body and slid his shorts down, freeing Dean's hard cock. He took the time to pull the shorts completely off and dropped them onto the floor, before moving back. Leaning down, he kissed and licked a trail across Dean's hip bone, inward across the crease between his leg and torso, then move his mouth to Dean's cock.

The way Sam pulled the shorts off him was both gentle and aggressive at same time. A part of Dean expected hesitation, but there was none... none. He gave a strangled cry as Sam found his shaft with his mouth. 

Sam placed a soft kiss to the base of the underside of Dean's cock, ran his tongue down his balls, taking them into his mouth slowly, then pulling away only to replace his mouth with his hand. He gently squeezed, cupped and rolled Dean's balls, his tongue slowly moving to lick up the underside of Dean's cock, across its slit, and dipping in to lick away a drop of pre-come before opening his mouth to take Dean in as deeply as he could, until Dean's dick bottomed out against the back of his throat.

The intensity of feelings rushing through Dean had him arching, writhing... and Sam had hardly started on him. What the hell was this? Why did his touch affect him like this? He gripped the headboard, closing his fingers around the rails, forcing himself to stay in place even when he wanted more pressure. "Oh God... Sammy... please. Harder."

Sam moaned softly, causing the vibration to be felt against the head of Dean's cock as he kept him buried deep in his throat before slowly pulling his head up only to dip it once again. His free hand moved to Dean's cock, working its base, twisting slightly on each downward and upward slide of his mouth around Dean. He was fucking his own mouth with Dean’s cock, like he had with the bottle. Sam took him deep again, swallowing the other man's cock, before pulling his head back slowly then picking up a faster tempo, his hand matching the rhythm stroke for stroke.

Every lick, every squeeze, every time Sam's mouth tightened around him, Dean's world spun out of control. The flare of heat and pressure pooling between his legs was almost too much to bear. He lifted his hips, arching off the mattress, groaning out Sam's name, and begging for more.  
Sam's own cock was so hard, his breeches were wet with his precome. Pulling his hand away from Dean's balls Sam quickly unfastened his pants, freeing his trapped erection before sliding down onto his stomach on the bed, his mouth never leaving Dean's cock. Sam's hips began thrusting against the mattress in time with his mouth and hand on Dean's cock, soft low moans sounding deep in his throat. 

When Dean opened his eyes and saw Sam's head moving, his mouth working him over, his hips snapping up and down as he found his own pleasure against the mattress, it was almost too much for Dean. Gutteral sounds began to escape him. One hand slipped off the railing and he buried it in Sam's hair, pushing him down, forcing him to take all of him. "Fuck, oh God Sam.... good, so fucking good... I ... I..." As he spiraled toward his climax, his head hit the railing. "I'm coming," he warned, wanting to but not having enough control to pull Sam's head up in time. 

He exploded inside Sam's mouth, needy, so fucking needy, moving, thrusting, letting him milk the last vestiges of his release. "Oh God, Sam... good, just... good," he ground out, suddenly jacknifing to a sitting position, bracing on his elbows as he still mindless raised his hips and watched Sam, eyes clinging to the boy's ass, watching him fuck into the mattress ... almost feeling like he could be the mattress under Sam. 

As Dean came in his mouth, jet after jet hitting the back of his throat, Sam swallowed it all greedily, just like he had the beer earlier. Dean's cries of pleasure, the way he moved, the sounds he made, had Sam thrusting his hips harder even after Dean had come and Sam was simply lapping up what little of Dean's spunk had slipped past his lips.

Finally, pulling his head back to look up at Dean's face, Sam bit his bottom lip hard as he groaned and squeezed his eyes closed, coming hard on the mattress. His head fell forward, as his hips slowed their erratic movements, his lips parting as he panted out his breaths against Dean's groin. Relaxing where he lay, Sam laid his head on one of Dean's thighs, as his tongue darted out every so often to flick along the side of Dean's now flaccid cock.

Aftershocks of pleasure were still hitting Dean, and Sam wasn't helping with the occasional stimulation... not that he was complaining. He stroked Sam's hair, slowly, no longer being ridden by needs so strong that he'd had to fight, to use every ounce of his control, to prevent himself from taking control over the situation.

"Twas worth yer doing the thing ye not be wanting to do?" Sam asked him breathlessly.

Dean drew a few deep breaths. "Shut up Sam. No one likes to hear 'I told you so.'" His mouth quirked, as he looked down at Sam. "C'mere."  
Sam raised an eyebrow at him, but slowly moved onto his hands and knees crawling up Dean's body to collapse next to him on the bed, rolling onto his back as he did. "If you're going ta hit me, I ask that ye don't hit the face. Its how I get people ta try to kiss me awake," Sam told him with a sigh as he closed his eyes, hands laying on his chest.

"Yeah, I'm gonna hit you. Gonna hit you with this." Bending his head, he gave Sam a long, lingering kiss. 

Sam flinched slightly, as Dean's lips captured his. He had been expecting anger, not a kiss. He moaned softly, kissing him back enjoying the taste that was Dean. 

"First, there's no way you're a virgin. You might be a 'technical virgin'... haven't gone all the way or whatever.” Feeling Sam tense, he added, “Shut your pie hole and don't argue, that's a compliment. 

'shut his pie hole?' Sam clamped his mouth shut, more out of confusion than to do as he was told. A compliment? To say that he had... He frowned slightly, though he kept his eyes closed.

“…Second, customary not to fall asleep right after you fuck someone. A nice kiss... brings them back for more. At least the ladies," Dean gave a slow grin. 

"I am not going to sleep. I am... resting my eyes." He slowly opened his eyes and looked at Dean after that. A kiss brings them back? The ladies? "Now you thinketh I am a woman!?" he asked him with a huff.

Dean just snorted. Sam's conclusion was even better than anything he could have thought of himself.

"So, I mayhap used ta stand at the barn door and watch the stable boy and the milk maid," he shrugged, "Doesn't every boy? And yes, I have kissed before," he grinned thinking about that, "Actually a lot of times before. There was this one maiden and she could..." Sam cleared his throat, "Um, nothing. She was just a good kisser."

A frisson of jealousy went through Dean. No, that would be stupid. Only an idiot cave man would be jealous of a kiss that took place centuries ago.

Rising up on an elbow, he turned to look at Dean, "So, when I fall asleep next, what dos't thou plan to do to wake me?" he asked him, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Giving a wolfish grin, Dean purposely gave him an enigmatic stare. As the moments stretched, he felt the building tension between them. "Really wanna know?" he asked, his voice still deep and husky. At Sam's nod, once Sam tucked himself into his pants again, he had Sam turn on his side and then spooned up behind him. He stroked Sam’s chest with one hand, in slow, soothing motions, then suddenly moved it to cup his cock and simultaneously inserted his knee between Sam's thighs. 

Sam stilled, waiting... He could feel the press of Dean's groin against his backside burning through the thin material of his breeches. Hazel eyes moved down to look at the hand that massaged his chest slowly, before moving to firmly cup his cock. Sam sucked in a breath and bit his lip as Dean's knee parted his thighs. Eyes slightly wider, his heart hammering in his chest so hard, so loud, he was sure Dean could hear it, he waited…

"G'night Sammy. Sleep well," Dean kissed the side of Sam's neck, and put his head down on his pillow, still holding him.

Sam frowned in confusion. Either Dean was purposefully being a tease, or he needed to be told that this alone was not going to give him energy to keep him awake. 

He laid there a long while, simply staring at the wall as he thought of which it was, and what to do. Finally, he whispered back, "Sleep well, Prince Dean," before closing his eyes and for the first time in centuries, wishing he would fall asleep.

* * *

It was strange how Dean felt the change… sensed Sam was slipping into a different sort of sleep. Refusing to allow it, he shoved his hand down Sam's pants and started to stroke him awake. With his knee, he applied pressure to Sam's balls, and he ground his own hardening erection against Sam's ass. Soon, they were both moving faster and faster, searching for release. 

Sam's eyes had fluttered open at the feel of a hand, Dean's hand stroking his cock, the knee between his legs applying the right amount of pressure had Sam hard within seconds. He moaned softly, his head tipping back toward Dean on the pillow, lips parted. Sam thrust his hips, grinding himself back against Dean's erection as he thrust to the rhythm of Dean's hand on his cock. 

"Oh God..." Sam moaned, swallowed hard as his head moved forward again. The pace of his hips and the hand on his cock speeding up, his ass grinding harder against Dean. 

"Come for me," Dean whispered in Sam's ear. "Come." 

Dean's whispered words seemed to be all it took. He felt the heat coil low in his belly and his balls tighten. "Aaaghh, God... tis a good way ta awaken me, tis a good way..." Teeth clenched, a low growl escaping him, Sam came hard, his hot spunk coating Dean's hand. 

Lips parted, Sam panted out his breaths, his hips still thrusting madly as he ground himself against Dean. His hand moved, reaching back to grab hold of Dean, wherever he could, gripping his hip.

Dean's breaths were labored as he slowed his grinding. He was still hard, and his heart was hammering against his chest, but he was smiling into Sam's hair. "That weird talk of your turns me on, but if you tell anyone... I'm gonna have to kill you." 

Sam smiled softly. That was easy enough, who was he going to tell?

Blowing out a few hot breaths, Dean leaned over and kissed Sam's cheek, then looked at the alarm clock. "You made it for seven hours. Maybe we're getting better at this. Maybe that's what the practice was for." 

Dean's kiss on his cheek, had him smiling wider, before Dean brought up the length of time he’d kept awake. His smile melted away, disappointment slamming him in the chest, constricting his heart for a moment. He pulled his hand away from Dean's hip, laying it on the mattress in front of him instead. Of course. This was to keep him awake. Not because Dean would actually want to. He was doing his duty. Keeping the Boy King awake. Sam needed to remember that. 

After a few moments of settling his emotions, his feelings to rights, he nodded. "Aye, I am awake," he ageed softly. He turned slightly, looking back at Dean. "Did you wish for me to get up now?" he asked him before pulling up to sit in the bed, swinging his legs over the side. He sat there a moment, head hanging. Looking over at the clock he sighed. 5:30AM, a little later than the normal time he used to wake when he was young. 

Pulling to his feet, Sam walked to the bathroom, stopping at the door. "Do you think we could go to market today? I think I need more than just these to wear," he muttered before walking in and closing the door after himself. 

Dean gave a mumbled answer and pulled the pillow over his head. There was no way he was getting up at this time of the day without a fire. A part of him sensed that Sam had something on his mind, but not being a morning person, he figured they'd deal with it later. Right now... he just hoped his hard on would disappear and he'd get a bit more sleep. 

After splashing cold water on his face and taking care of a few morning essentials, Sam fastened his pants, pulled his shirt to rights and exited the bathroom to find what seemed to be Dean sound asleep. With a huff and shake of his head, Sam walked out of the motel room. Looking to the left and right before deciding that the place they had eaten before had been to their right, he started walking in that direction. 

Walking took a lot longer than riding in Dean's Impala, but it wasn’t too far and the same waitress they had had the previous night came up to him. 

"Well, Good Morning, Sunshine. Aren't you up bright and early?" she greeted him.  
Sam raised an eyebrow. Was he? What time did people normally get up? He smiled and nodded, "Good day, I - I guess I am," he agreed, unsure what else to say. 

She smiled at him, "What can I get ya?" 

Sam sighed as he stepped forward, pulling out a menu, "Well, I was hoping for coffee, but..." he pressed his lips together. How did he tell her that he had no money? "I don't know that I can give you the amount you ask," he told her as he glanced up from the menu, "See, the man I was here with last night," he started to explain, but she cut him off. 

"The one with the pretty green eyes?" 

Sam nodded, "Aye, that would be him." 

She eyed him a moment, "Aye?" 

He frowned again, but remained silent for a moment, before deciding to just go on with what he was going to tell her. "See, he was the one to awaken me, and I haven't been awake long, so I don't have the coin ya ask for." 

She blinked at him then gasped softly, "You're HIM aren't you!?" she squealed in delight, "You're the Boy King!" 

Sam smiled and nodded, "Aye that is who I am." 

"Oh, honey, coffee is on the house. You and the guy you were with?" 

He nodded again, smiling wide, dimples showing. 

"Oh and you're just as cute as can be aren’t you?" she asked him before hurrying off to get him coffees, yelling to the other girls that the Boy King was out front and that they had to come see. 

Twenty minutes later he was still in the same establishment, now seated at the counter on a stool with four waitresses surrounding him, oohing and awwing over every word he spoke. He had been promised coffees to go later, been given breakfast on the house and now he was kissing each woman in turn for them to have good luck as the legend said.

Hours later, a slightly disheveled looking Dean walked into the coffee shop, having gone to every other place he thought Sam might be. What the fuck was that crowd? He strained to look around some of the women, and then saw it was Sam. One by one, women of all shapes and sizes, ages, giddy at the thought of kissing the Boy King, were taking a turn on his lap. 

Funny. Ha ha, amusing. The space between Dean's eyebrows furrowed. Hysterical really. Maybe he should just fucking ask _them_ to keep him awake. Storming off to the other side of the counter he sat, and had to shout for coffee, since the waitresses were only circling around one customer in the whole damned place.

Sam hadn't really been prepared for the waitresses, let alone for them to tell everyone that came in after him who he was and urging them to take a turn. Hearing Dean's voice, he pulled his head back from the petite blond, his lips leaving hers even as her lips stayed in a pucker, her eyes closed. He raised his head to look above the crowd as he gently placed the woman back on her feet, her eyes fluttering open as he did so. 

"Dean!" he called, a smile on his face as he stepped out to walk around the crowd. 

"This is the one?" one woman asked as she followed after Sam, looking at Dean. 

Sam looked back at her, smile remaining as he nodded, "Aye, tis him." he told her. 

The woman giggled, "Don't you just love the way he talks?" she asked Dean, before looking back at Sam and raising up on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. She looked back at Dean, "You're a lucky man." she told him before looking back at Sam and shaking her head. 

"Aw, my lady," Sam told her as he took her hand in his, "T'would have been a pleasure to have one as fair as you try to awaken me," he told her smoothly, before kissing the back of her hand. He watched her walk away, a pink stain on her cheeks giggling like a child with her friends. 

Sam returned his attention to Dean then as he sat down next to him, "I had come here to fetch us coffees." Sam shrugged, “but I had no coin and had to explain and well, things just kinda grew out of proportion after that." He looked at Dean a moment, lips pressed together. "Did ye sleep well?"

Dean moved away, irritation plain on his face. "So you don't buy their services, but you're willing to put out for coffee. Great." 

Sam frowned as Dean moved away from him. "I did nothing wrong," he shrugged, "They are just...interested. They knew the legend. I have not lain with any of these women, Dean," he said seriously. Sam tilted his head to the side, "Why would you give a care with whom I have lain?"

"Who said I care? Where the fuck is my..." he sat back, bristling while the waitress set the cup in front of him. "You can sleep with every last one of them if you like," his eyes were hot with a fury he didn't understand. "Just don't expect me to sit here twiddling my thumbs until you're done." 

Sam frowned hard, anger welling up in him, "I don’t know why thou art so angry with me. Twas not my intent for this ta happen. I came here for you! My intentions were noble, I assure you! Hell, why do I even try? Do you care? Nay. Do you want me? Nay. I am a burden to you, you thinketh I do not know this!? I do! I am not blind nor am I simple! And you, I can read like a book! So, be angry for all I care! For nay, I do no longer!" he yelled at him, rising from the seat beside Dean, turning on his heel and walking to the door. "If the pendent even exists, we best find it within the fortnight," he called over his shoulder as he shoved the door open and walked out.

Equally angry and determined not to have to keep explaining himself, and not to keep being interrupted here, Dean added sugar to his coffee. "I'll take another to go," he said, in a clipped tone, sipping on his coffee as the waitress brought him two cups. He gritted his teeth at her sweetly whispered "on the house."

When he was good and ready, he walked out and saw that Sam was already at the car. Wordlessly, he shoved one of the cups across the rooftop at him, and opened the door. Once Sam joined him, and closed the door, Dean gunned it, tires squealing as they left the parking lot. 

For a while, Dean matched Sam’s silence. "Guess who is gonna make the local papers today?" He turned his head and glared at Sam. "You. Guess who has demons after him? Bingo, you. Next time you feel the need to make out with a bunch of chicks, at least do it somewhere private." Turning back, he looked straight out the window, knowing he was angrier than he should be, but unable to curb it.  
"I was trying to get you coffee," he answered through gritted teeth, rolling his eyes at the mention of demons and then staring at him in disbelief, with his mouth hanging open, when he spoke of the women. 

"How dost _thou_ put it? One, I can handle demons, as thou hast seen... as long as I do not fall aslumber. Two, I did not 'make - out' with a bunch of 'chicks', and aye, I know what those words. I had plenty of youth around my casket, tease about making out with the Sleeping Boy King, so aye, I know! And I did nothing like that! It was one kiss each. One kiss. There wasn't even any tongue!"

Damn him, he learned too fast, now even mimicking him. A muscle twitched in Dean's jaw as he searched for a counter argument. Anything. Any time now... He had nothing. Eventually, he relaxed. "No tongue. Then what the fuck were they squealing about," he slid a look at Sam. "You using magic?" 

Sam looked at him, "How should I know what was making them squeal!? You thinketh they were squealing over my tongue!?" Sam huffed, "Tis not that great a thing," he mumbled, looking back out the window. "And nay, I do not use magic," he shrugged, "Tis a big deal in the area … the fact that I am awake. Truthfully, they were just as much a flutter over meeting you, had thou not walked in acting like a buffoon!" he sighed and shook his head before looking back at him, "Truly, why dost thou care what I did?"

Dean gave a one shouldered shrug and tightened his lips. "I don't know." He felt the weight of Sam's gaze and turned to him. "I don't." 

Sam eyed him a few moments before he nodded. "I believe you." he said quietly, before looking back out the window, even as they pulled into a parking lot. Sam frowned and looked back at Dean, "Where are we?"

He pointed at a store front. "Antiques and collectibles. Look at what they specialize in." He opened the door and got out, walking toward the glass door that was etched with the statement that the store was the best source of information about the local legend of the Boy King.

Within minutes, Dean was charming the gray haired woman who called herself Rose and getting her to talk about the legend, and the amulet. She brought over several thick books and put both boys to work. Dean glanced at Sam to see if he would have any trouble with reading, but was soon put at ease. Each of them used stickies to mark all references to the amulet, so they could cross reference and see what information was repeatedly stated by different authorities. 

Sam's giggle broke through the silence that had stretched between them as they worked. "Oh that is just absurd!" he chuckled, shaking his head, eyes still on the page of the book in his hand.

"Oh, got to the one where it's claimed you have a big huge magical--" Feeling the older woman's steely eyes on him, Dean looked back down and merely turned the page.

"The pendent is guarded by the spirit of the Lady of the Water," Sam scoffed, glancing over at Dean, still grinning. "Some of these stories are truly unbelievable indeed. I have been swimming in every lake within my home land," he shook his head, "twas never a Spirit Lady in the water." 

Dean stared at him. The whole magical cock thing had gone right over his head.

"I still thinketh if I tell Lady Rose who I am, we can get her to do all this work for us."

"Here I thought I was the lazy one when it came to research. Dad was always--." Letting out a breath, he turned the page. "Anyway, we can't go around telling everyone who you are. I know you think you can handle anything. Maybe it's true, one demon at a time. Ever face an army? Believe me, you don't want to."

"An army?" he shook his head ‘no.’ Licking his lips, Sam shrugged slightly, "Tis not that I am lazy. I was just pondering doing something... more enjoyable," he told him, eyes on the book.

"I'll just bet." His gaze flicked to Sam, who looked very much awake. "Find the answer and maybe..." Lacing his voice with suggestion, Dean flicked the page over, oozing with innocence and even waving at Rose. 

Okay, so he had _meant_ to not say anything more about it, but, he couldn't seem to control his tongue where Dean was concerned... in more ways than one. "Find the amulet, and you needn't bother doing the enjoyable with me," he commented casually, as though he had simply commented on the weather, while his eyes were glued to the page, a study of concentration.

"We find the amulet and you won't be a sitting duck a couple times a day." Dean dumped the heavy book onto a pile, coughing at the dust, and picking up another. "You'll be independent, don't tell me you don't want that." Going quiet, he started taking a couple of notes. Things would change once they found the amulet, that was for sure. He just didn't know how, didn't know if he'd stick with his original plan of going to his next hunt, and his next one, alone. If it were anyone else, he definitely wouldn't think about sticking around... but Sam could hold his own, he'd seen that. He'd lost one partner, someone who meant the world to him, but Sam... Maybe with some training, if he wanted it, maybe he'd make a good partner. As for the 'enjoyable stuff'... It seemed like he was only 'against it' when he wasn't 'doing it.' 

Sam shook his head, mumbling under his breath, "And now I'm fowl." Still looking at the book, continuing to take notes and mark pages, making sure NOT to look at Dean, he said, "I think thou just does not wish to be the one to _pluck_ me." He stole a glance at Dean then closed the heavy book and leaned over to add it to the growing stack on the floor, "Though I must say, I shall miss the _plucking_. 

"I've plucked you plenty of--" What the fuck? Now he was starting to talk like Sam. Horrified, Dean snapped his mouth shut, though he couldn't hide his expression.

Sam looked at Dean and smirked. "How art thou doing over there?" he asked him, as he pulled the rest of the way up to sit straight.

Clearing his throat, and trying to set aside all images of 'plucking,' Dean pointed to a few books he'd set aside. "In two places, I found references to breaking the curse using silver from the Vermont Silver Belt. Nothing about what's so special about that silver, but makes sense... it would have been in the area. The mines are all closed now," he pointed out, looking up when he felt Rose come up behind him stealthier than a night creature. He started to tense.

"You know one family bought up practically all of the Silver Belt, the Copper Belt too. The Anderlace family's house is on public display, preserved so you can see how they lived. There are family run antique and jewelry stores on the property."

"Did you say Anderlace?" Forgetting his suspicion, Dean sat straighter. "Guy named Anderlace makes about fifty percent of newly made protective charms. The guy's for real. Rose, can I get copies of the pages with pictures?" Seeing her stern look, he added, "I'll pay for them." The books were a different story, he was sure he couldn't afford them. He was also sure that if she said no, he'd be back to steal them.

"Young man, don't even think about it," she said, drilling him with her gaze as she took the books to copy the pages he wanted.

"Damn... getting a sense of deja vu here." Shaking off the willies at the thought of how much like Missouri she was… or maybe it was something else, he pulled Sam up, and as they headed for the cash register promised they'd go to the "market" to get him some more clothes - after Dean earned them some cash.


	6. Chapter 6

He’d had a difficult time finding a pool hall open and with players this time of the day, but in a couple of hours, Dean walked out with a pile of money ... other people's. Glancing to the side, he noticed Sam's frown, and slapped his back. "What's the matter, Sammy? I told you I'd get it. Now look for signs in the windows saying 'we cater to the freakishly tall,' heh he heh."

"I did not realize you were going to... be dishonest to get the coins we needed." He eyed Dean, "I could have simply told the merchant who I am. And I am NOT freakishly tall... thou art just short,” he stated, before walking a bit head of him, muttering as he passed Dean, "Though not everywhere."

Dean stopped mid-stride, then hooked his thumb into a belt loop and gave him a cocky look. "Damned straight."

Entering the first small shop in the rustic little town’s downtown strip, Sam was able to find a couple of shirts that fit him a bit better than Dean's.

Standing in the center of the store as Dean took care of payment, Sam pulled the tee he wore up and over his head, before slipping on one of the new ones. A soft blue tee with a design on the front. Sam was more inclined to think it was a clan seal, however Dean had assured him that Nike, was not a clan.

Dean finished paying and headed out, shaking his head and grinning. "Now for some pants. Something with a zipper, those laces you have... big pain in the ass when you're trying to get 'down and dirty.'" Checking for traffic, he started to cross in the middle of the street.

Sam looked down at his pants as he started to follow Dean across the street, frowning. Looking back at Dean he huffed, "I like the laces."

Once inside the shop, he was too caught up in the design and detail of the establishment to even notice what they were supposed to be looking at or where Dean had gone. 

Mouth slightly agape, he scanned the walls of the shop, noting how it was made to look like it was all made of wood, however, the outside of the establishment boasted another material. There were longish boards in bright colors stuck on the walls here and there along with signs that glowed in neon colors advertising things like Roxy, Billabong, among many others.... whatever they were.

He stood there for long moments simply turning in a slow circle and taking it all in until a sales person slid up beside him and smiled brightly, "Hey, sweet boy, what can I help you find?" the man asked him.

Sam barely glanced at the man, "Pants." In his awe of his surroundings, Sam missed the man's obvious once, "MmmHmm..." with a hand on Sam's bicep the man drew his attention, "We got some cute little jeans over there honey, they’d look great on that little ass of yours."

Walking up behind them, Dean crossed his arms. "Nothing little about him, including his ass. One black, and two blue jeans should do it." Cocking his head, he glared at Sam for letting the guy hold onto him. "And he's not blind, you don't have to go dragging him around."

The sales attendant huffed and stuck his nose in that air before releasing Sam's arm. "What size are you, honey?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't..." he glanced at Dean again, before dropping the bag in his hand onto the floor and reaching for the laces of his pants.

The salesman laid his hand on top of Sam's. "It's okay honey. I had a boyfriend about your size once," he turned and glared at Dean before looking back at Sam, "I think I can guess."

Sam nodded and released the laces with a shrug as he waited for the man to go find 'his size'. Looking over at Dean he raised an eyebrow, "What vexes thee now?"

"Why don't you let him undo your laces next," Dean groused. "Get a room."

Sam frowned at Dean, "How was I to know one needed to know ones 'size'? I did not know that the size of my cock was a question for the purchase of pants!" he huffed, looking back the way the man had disappeared before glancing at Dean again, "And we have a room."

"He doesn't want the size of your cock... he wants your cock," turning his head in the direction the man went, Dean looked back. "Like you didn't notice." 

Sam had no idea what Dean was talking about. The man wanted his cock!? How did Dean know that? Surely, Dean wasn't under the impression that simply everyone was trying to seduce him now. 

Before Sam could protest his innocence, and just as Dean caught a glimpse of the guy returning with clothing thrown across his arm, he dragged Sam into the open changing room and plastering himself against Sam, pulled him down for a long, hard kiss. "Stop fucking with me," he whispered near his ear, then pulled away, giving the salesman a warning glance.

All thought and will to question Dean or argue flew away as those amazing lips crushed against his own. Sam's arms immediately went to wrap around Dean. But a frown marred Sam’s face once Dean pulled away and whispered in his ear. Fucking with him? He was not fucking with him... Nay, twas the one thing they had not done actually to truly...

The salesman had stopped mid stride a smile on his face as he witnessed the end of ‘the show’ before clearing his throat to get Sam's attention. "I have a couple different sizes here." He glanced at Dean, before looking back at Sam, "Would you like some help trying them on?" he asked, oh-so-helpfully, a wide smile on his face.

Sam's eyes widened slightly as he wrapped an arm around Dean, "Nay, my Prince will help me," Sam answered as he stepped forward to take the offered pants.

The salesman, raised a hand to his mouth, as he looked from Sam to Dean and back, "Aww, how precious." He leaned toward Sam, "Every one of us girls wants to be a princess, huh, honey?" he asked with a wink which totally confused Sam who looked over at Dean for help as Dean slammed the door shut even before the man had walked a few feet away.

"You heard him, princess, pants off." He gave Sam a heated look as he unfolded one of the new pair of jeans. 

Sam frowned at Dean as his hands went to the laces of his pants, "I am not a princess," he told him, before tearing his gaze away from Dean to look down at what he was doing. Laces unfastened, Sam toed off his boots as he looked at Dean, "And what did he mean by said comment anyway?" he asked, brow quirked.

"He thinks you're my girlfriend, that's what. Come on... get out of them." It was ridiculous, but he wanted that man out there to know Sam was off limits. He was probably standing there, on the other side of the door. He could probably see under the door that left everything from their knees down open to public view. 

Hooking his fingers into the waistband of Sam's pants, he sank down onto his knees, pulling them down his thighs at the same time. He knew what it would look like from the outside. Stroking Sam's legs, he looked up. "Anytime now. The stepping out of the pants part... they did change clothes in your time, didn't they?"

Sam frowned down at him, "Aye, we changed clothes in my time. But, you are down there and..." Sam swallowed, looked up, before looking back down at Dean, "distracting me," he told him as he pulled a leg up stepping out of the pants, before he picked up his other leg, freeing himself from them completely.

Sam grabbed a pair of the jeans, frowning at them. "This material lacks in softness. Tis hard and unforgiving," he mumbled before lowering them to step into them. It was true, Sam's pants were petal soft, like suede, a tanish burt orange color, with lighter colored laces the same hue his boots had once been.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Hard huh, let me take care of it for you," he said loudly, not missing the gasp from outside. Then he lowered his voice. "Forget the leggings. A couple washes and these will be... softer." Smirking, he raised his voice again as he zipped Sam up. "Like the up and down motion?"

The salesman put his hand against the door and took a deep breath. God he wanted to join them.

Sam raised his eyebrow at Dean, unsure why he kept raising his voice to almost shouting levels. "Ye know I like the up and down motion. I would rather you were inside," his hazel eyes pinned Dean as he leaned in whispering, "with me." before drawing back with a shrug. "I know it twould be tight, but twould be well worth the effort."

The salesman, pulled his hand away from the door, biting his nails. "Oh go in, honey, go in," he muttered softly, fanning himself with his free hand.

Clearing his throat, Dean confirmed, "so it's in and out action you're looking for, turn around," he motioned with his index finger, silently telling Sam he wanted to see how the jeans looked from behind.

Sam slowly turned and looked over his shoulder at Dean, "Does't thou like the way my ass looks?" he asked him, a smirk on his lips.

"Yeah baby, I like it," Dean growled, smacking Sam's ass.

Sam looked back down at the jeans and tugged on the material, "So hard..."

The salesman nearly fainted at that, waving over one of the girl sales reps. As she approached he grabbed her hand, "Oh baby girl, you have got to hear this. There are two delicious naughty boys in there," he told her, holding onto the girl sales reps hands so she wouldn't wander off.

"Do you think you can do something about how hard it is for me?" Sam asked him, quirking a brow as he reached for his old pants, turning to the side and bending a knee as he grabbed Dean's hand to place it on the denim, then on his old pants showing him the difference.

"Hell yeah," he touched the soft pair, and gave a moan, "so good, so fucking good," then touched the jeans. "How's that? Like it when I rub like that?" he pushed the heel of his hand up and down Sam's thigh. 

Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean before he turned around completely to press himself against Dean, "Does it feel like I like it?" he asked him, pressing his denim encased hard cock against Dean's hand.

He bent down, his mouth near Dean's ear, "See what thou has done to me?" he whispered, before pulling his head back, hazel eyes gazing into green. “But I thinketh your game has gone too far," he whispered as his hands went to the button and zipper of the jeans to unfasten them so he could change back into his own pants.

The sales girl looked at the sales man, eyes wide as she gasped softly. "Oooh, Andre, how do you always find the naughty ones!?" she asked him softly as they both moved a step closer to the changing room door straining to hear more.

"Yeah baby, I see... I got ya, I got ya... fuck," licking his lips, Dean got up off his knees and covered Sam's mouth with his, stopping any further protests as he banged his elbow against the door a couple time. "Fuckin' fantastic." 

Sam moaned softly, not even bothering to wonder about Dean hitting the door. Too soon, as far as Sam as concerned, Dean pulled his mouth away. 

Taking the jeans from Sam as soon as he'd gotten them off, Dean threw it over the door, "We'll take this and the same pants in black." Blowing out an audible breath, he added. "I need a cigarette. Sam, try these on too, just don't take as much time. If they fit right, you can keep them on."

The sales man and woman both nearly sank to the floor at the idea that the two guys had just had sex in their dressing room. Eyes wide, mouths hanging open they looked at one another, then up at the pants hanging over the side of the door. "I'll ring 'em up. You helped 'em in there, you can clean up any white mystery spill," the sales girl told Andre, as she snagged the jeans off the door and walked away toward the registers.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean's words, then shook his head as he grabbed up the other pair of pants, finding that they did not have a button and zipper, but rather all buttons. Slipping them on, Sam fastened them, finding them to be a bit tighter than the other pairs. Turning to look at himself in the mirror, Sam smirked slightly at the way they molded themselves to his body. "Aye, I like these."

"You would. Realize they're harder to open in an emergency?" Grinning, Dean pushed the door open. "Hey Andre," he looked down at the red faced man. "We'll take these as well." For good measure, Dean made a show of tucking his own tee shirt in as he headed for the cashier.

Sam grinned at Dean, "An emergency? Like, a life threatening erection?" he snickered softly, before shaking his head as they walked over to the register.

Andre arrived at the register seconds after they did, nearly shoving the sales woman out of the way. He looked at the girl at the register, "I got them, honey."

The girl at the register blinked at him, "You do?"

Andre grinned and nodded as he looked back at Sam and Dean, "Oh hell yeah, I do."

The sales girl was whispering in the cashier's ear and she was staring at Sam and Dean, turning a rather dark shade of red. She laughed then, "You two actually screwed in the dressing room?" she asked them.

Andre and the sales girl who's name tag read, "Jewel" stared at the cashier with wide eyes before muttering under their breath and returning their attention to Sam and Dean.

"Oh please! You and Andre stand at the door and listen and I am the one without couth!?" she spat, then rolled her eyes, "Whatever!"

Andre, smiled prettily at Sam, as he glanced at Dean, "That's his Prince," he told the girls as he still looked at Sam. Both girls, 'awed' over that and slumped on the counter, pouting.

"See, I need me one of those." Jewel said, with a nod.

Sam grinned shyly, turning red himself as he looked at the floor, finally looking up and shaking his head, "Nay, tis not like that, he awoke me and..." his words trailed off as Andre, Jewel and the cashier all stared at him as though he had two heads.

Dean finished paying. "Nevermind what he said. I fucked him silly. Have a nice day," winking, he pushed the bag is into Sam's arms and headed out the door.

Sam raised a brow at Dean, but remained silent on the matter.

Once they neared the car, Dean turned. "So how many ways I gotta tell you to stop announcing who you are? Seriously Sam, it could be dangerous."

"I did not tell them who I am. I was trying ta explain that twas not the way they were thinking it." he shrugged, "I thought thou would not want to be known as 'My Prince' by females," he told him, tugging open the car door.

Dean pointed at him over the top of the car. "After the performance we put on, I don't think that would have mattered." He slapped the top of the roof twice, "but thanks for the thought."

The drive to the Anderlace estate went real quick, with Sam keeping up the sexual banter between them. Dean looked at him a couple times to see if he was running low on energy, but Sam looked fine. Maybe he was just horny. And maybe Dean knew that feeling because he caught himself staring into Sam's lap and wondering about how it would feel to unbutton another guy's jeans. The blare of horns behind him awakened him from his stupor.

They arrived at the mansion only to find it was closed for renovations over the weekend. Not one to give up so easily, Dean hopped the fence with a reluctant Sam in tow, but they'd only found construction workers who'd been useles.

Now he pulled into the parking lot of their motel and got out. They'd stopped to get a six pack, so he got it from the trunk and threw Sam the keys to the room.

Sam looked down at the keys, before turning to unlock the door. "So," he began as he looked back at Dean, "I have opened the door for you, what shall thou do for me?" he asked him with a naughty smirk as he held open the door.

"Close it? Smart ass," he moved through the door and put the beer on the table, looking under his lashes at Sam. Something was definitely brewing...

Sam looked over his shoulder at his ass as he let the door close, moving out of it's way. "My ass is not smart, but it does look good in these pants." He looked back at Dean, "Do you not agree?" he asked with a grin, walking further into the room. "I could get us the largest side of the freshest kill in these. Twould not be hard," he offered, quirking a brow.

"Oh yeah? And just how do you plan to do that?" Popping a can open, Dean shoved it toward Sam. Then he got himself one and dropped down onto the bed.

Sam shrugged, "If I go back ta the eatery we have already visited, they know me there," he grinned and held his head a bit higher, "And now I look good."

"So how many bitches do you plan on kissing for this... this fresh kill?" he gave Sam an angry stare for reminding of this morning's events. "And you think my methods of earning money are not up to your standards?"

Sam frowned, "I did not say that, thee did. All I said was I could get it for us." Sam shrugged, "And well, maybe I am in the mood to kiss. Do not fear, I am not going to fall aslumber just yet."

Was that a threat? "Good, because I'm having a beer first." Sitting back, he stuffed a couple of pillows behind his back. Damn Sam for constantly bringing up his popularity. Talk about a mood killer. 

Sam looked down at the beer in his hand, then tilted the can to his lips, drinking down the entire contents before lowering it, crushing it and tossing it into the trash. "I had mine. Now I am gonna find some thin' ta do besides sit here and watch ye watch that box," he nodded at the T.V. before turning and walking toward the door. His hand on the knob he called over his shoulder, "If I fall to the ground some place, I am sure thou will find me in the morning."

Dean merely gave a grunt. Clearly Sam was being a drama queen, and he wasn't about to encourage him. Aiming the remote, he turned the t.v. on, hardly batting a lash when Sam left with a loud slam of the door. There were like three places he could get to. The car, the little market next door, and the diner where he could get his face sucked. Pressing the button harder than necessary, Dean searched for something to watch. He wasn't gonna worry, and he damn well wasn't gonna be jealous, because that was exactly what Sam wanted.

*

Sam had left in a huff, unsure of where he was going. Sure, he could go back and be hit on by Andre... not a very appealing idea. Or he could go back to the eatery they had been going to for the last few days now... although there were quite a few women there that were pleasing to the eye that would be wanting his attentions, it just wasn't what Sam was looking for. Besides, he kept thinking about full luscious lips and emerald green eyes. Damn his Prince anyway.

So, his last option... standing next to Dean's Impala like a buffoon and waiting for sleep to claim him so he could crumble to the ground, was also, not an option he found appealing.

With another huff, Sam walked down the street, hands shoved, yeah, okay, fingertips shoved, as his hands wouldn't fit, into the pockets of his jeans. His head was bowed, shoulders hunched, looking as though he had just lost his best friend, and maybe he had... at least it was his only friend.

Stopping before a tavern, Sam entered and took a seat at the bar. Well, one thing led to another and pretty soon the boy king was three sheets to the wind and everyone in the bar knew who he was and that his Prince did not want him.

He received numerous offers to take, 'his Prince’s’ place, but Sam only grinned goofily at them and spoke in a deep, husky voice, that in his drunken stupor was so filled with old world charm it was a wonder anyone knew what the hell he was saying, and maybe they didn't. Maybe the women were all simply gushing over the dreamy look in those slightly slanted eyes as he said that 'His Prince' was the one he truly wanted and none other. Or the way he ran the back of his knuckles down their cheeks or how close his lips drew to theirs without touching as he spoke. Whatever the reason, his bar tab, which should have been in the hundreds after he had "bought" the entire bar several round, was zero. He was simply told it was on the house, or others had bought his drinks.

He sat there now, throwing back yet another shot of whiskey, as he leaned heavily on the bar, watching through heavy lidded eyes as the barmaid finished mixing a drink for another customer.

*

No. Hell no. Dean was not hearing shouts of "Boy King" coming out of the open door of a local bar near the diner. No fucking way Sam started that shit up again, telling everyone who he was... not after their last talk. No way. And yet he hadn't been any of the places Dean had thought to look.

"You're not THAT naive," he groaned, walking into the bar.

Yeah, yeah he was, because they were drinking to the Boy King alright. "Sam!" Eyes narrowed, he started walking toward him, only just registering the soft welcoming smile on his face, before someone knocked Dean on the back of his head.

"What the fuck?" He turned and found himself staring at a sea of hostile eyes, and not knowing which one of them should be punched out.

"You're a bastard."

"Yeah... why?" Dean started going through the possibilities. Bar under a spell?

"Him. You treat HIM like dirt."

"Him, who... oh for crying out loud," he groaned.

"You don't want him, there are plenty in here that do."

"Yeah!"

"Yeah! I'll take him."

Dean tensed. Now it wasn't only the women, some of the men were offering too. And how the fuck did you explain that? "Look, it's none of your fucking business, this is between him and me." He started to turn, when someone caught his arm. He wrenched it away, and shoved the guy into another. "You wanna take me on? I didn't think so."

Pissed as hell now, he pushed his way through Sam's Goddamned protectors and fans to get to him. "How much do you owe? Let's pay for it and get out," he said, barely restraining the shouting he intended to give Sam once they were out of here.

The barmaid leaned over the counter near Sam, her ample cleavage showing rather blatantly. "He," she said as she glared at Dean, then her gaze softened as she looked at Sam, "doesn't owe anything."

Sam reached a hand out and ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek, "Does thou knowest that thou hath the bluest eyes, Virginia? They are like the bluest summer skies," he told her, voice soft, deep, "I thinketh thou must be an angel, for thou hath fallen from above inta our midst and bewitched us all with thine beauty." 

She blushed slightly and looked down, before looking up and glaring at Dean again, "You don't want THIS!? Are you insane!?" she spat at him angrily.

Dean bristled. Did no one get the concept that he WAS NOT a girl? "Blue as the summer..." he muttered, grabbing the glass out of Sam's hand and downing the whiskey. He needed it more... if he was going to keep his temper. 

"That will be $6.50," Virginia put out her palm.

"You just said he doesn’t owe...." Dean was seething as he pulled his wallet out. "Come on Sam, get up. We're going home."

Sam frowned drunkenly and shook his head, "Nay," he told him, as he looked down, pouting. "I dunna want ta go with thee." He looked up at Virginia and smiled, dimples showing, "I want ta stay here where they _want_ me," he said drunkenly as he raised his hand once again toward Virginia's face, only to have her grab his hand and place a soft kiss to his palm as she waited for Dean to pay her.

"Get your mouth off him or you're not getting a tip." Glaring at each one of them in turn, he tossed the money on the bar, then grabbed Sam's jacket. As he started to pull him up, he lowered his head and kissed him. Hard. Right there in front of the damned crowd trying to steal the Boy King away. Leaving barely a half an inch between their mouths, he whispered. "Come on Sammy... time to go."

Sam slowly opened his eyes and looking at Dean's face inches from his own, licked his lips. “Time to what, Dean?" he asked him softly. "I am not leavin' here unless ye promise ta fuck me. REALLY fuck me. Not the little humpin'," Sam motioned with a finger in the air, "You’ve been doing with me before." He paused, "I mean, I want ta _feel_ ya, Dean," he almost pleaded, his voice soft and husky as hazel eyes looked earnestly into green.

Virginia clucked her tongue from where she was still leaning over the bar, counting Dean's money. "If you deny that, you're more of an idiot than I thought you were," she muttered to Dean, then raised an eyebrow as she looked at him, "Which would be saying something." She finished before pushing away from the bar to walk to the cash register.

He couldn't deny the thrill that ran through him like a jolt of electricity as Sam's demand washed over him. "You’re gonna explain 'how to' fuck next, aren't you?" Raising his brow, he kept his voice low. "Can we talk about this someplace where less than fifty people are listening to what should be a private conversation?"

Sam looked back at Virginia and shook his head, "See? He’s ashamed of the very idea of laying with me." 

Virginia shook her head, glaring over at Dean, before laying her hand on Sam's, "Men are pigs, honey," she blinked then, "Present company excluded." 

Sam chuckled and patted her hand with his free one, "Tis a wonderful thing, that mouth of ye, Virginia."

She smirked at Sam, "Honey, you have no idea," she told him, which earned her a bark of laughter from Sam as she refilled his glass with more whiskey.

Sam looked back at Dean then, "Nay, we shall speak of it here, or none at all. I’ll be stayin' here if'n ye are ta not be giving freely of yerself."

"Cut it out, Sam. Sam." Frustrated, he turned and glared at the waitress. "You keep out of this... and you... back away," this time he pointed at a couple of people who'd moved in to watch the drama. "Sam?" 

Sam looked at Dean, a goofly grin on his face as he tilted his head, pulled his hand away from Virginia's to reach out to Dean, "Aye, my Prince?" Sam asked him, holding a hand out to him.

He should just fucking pick him up and get him out of here. And yet, the way he was looking at him, waiting, expecting... trusting. Nervously, Dean licked his lips and took Sam's hand. Leaning close, he whispered in his ear. "Sam, baby, come home with me so I can fuck you."

Warmth washed through Sam at Dean's words and his cock twitched behind the tight fitting denim, hardening uncomfortably. Sam squirmed slightly in his seat, a little more than he had meant to in his drunken state, so it wasn't hard to guess what was wrong. He looked over at Virginia, a smile on his face, making his dimples show. "I shall see ye in the morn', my lady." he told her in a husky voice, before looking back at Dean. "Seems my Prince hath decided I am not the frog he once thought me to be," he told her and the rest of the bar, his hazel eyes still locked on green as he pulled, a tad clumsily, to his feet.

That look held so much promise, it had Dean swallowing hard and just barely preventing himself from looking at the evidence of Sam's desire. "Why don't we put it on the eleven o'clock news, just to make sure EVERYONE knows," he muttered, putting his shoulder under his drunken Boy King's arm and leading him out, whispering in his ear about how they were gonna fuck, if only just to stop him from talking to literally every damned Tom, Dick and Harriet in the bar!

"Give 'em hell, honey!" Virginia called to Sam as he walked away with Dean, though Sam wasn't listening, he was too caught up in the things Dean was whispering in his ear as he wrapped his arm around Dean's waist, pulling him in a bit closer. 

Other men and women called their goodnight's to Sam, but again he still didn't respond past a small drunken smile as he listened to Dean, a warm tingle of excitement spreading through out his body.

Once they were outside in the cool night air, Sam looked over at Dean, "Thee lie well," he told him softly,leaning in to kiss Dean's lips lightly, before he started to pull his arm from around Dean. "I am no fool, I know thou was only telling me that ta get me out of the tavern." Sam sighed, shrugging slightly, "Tis okay."


	7. Chapter 7

"Is that your way of calling me a liar?" Dean gripped a handful of Sam's shirt and held him in place. As he looked up into kind, trusting eyes, something shifted inside him. A need to make Sam happy, to see him smile for real... no … to smile for all time. 

Okay that was so fucking sappy, Dean wanted to kick himself for that thought. But the feeling? It clung to him. Could it be true, what Sam said about 'the right one'... the 'one perfect mate’?' Why else did he feel like smashing his fist into every person who looked at Sam like they wanted to take him to bed? Why did he get so pissed off when Sam didn't get that's what they were doing, and flirted along with them? Or maybe Sam did get it... maybe that's what pissed him off even more. 

Sam frowned at Dean, not understanding why he was taking his words so badly. Nay, he was not calling him a liar, per say. He was calling him an...actor. Aye. Indeed, an actor. There was a difference.

Dean’s gaze narrowed. "I think you thinketh you knoweth much more than you really knoweth." Did that shit even make sense? 

Sam's frown turned into a drunken smirk at Dean's words as he raised an eyebrow. He was cute when he tried to mimic him. Truly he was... nay, twas incorrect. Dean was cute, nay, handsome _always._

Dean didn't explain any more, he just put his arms around Sam and dragged him up against his frame and he kissed him. Damn this felt good, so damned right. 

Sam moaned softly against Dean's full lips and wrapped his arms around Dean, holding him close. "Thou knowest not what thou doest to me," he moved his hips, grinding his arousal against Dean’s hip. "For thou can excite me like no other," he told him, his voice soft and husky with his desire.

"Bet you say that to all the girls." Dean's hand slipped down Sam's back, to his ass. Squeezing, he pulled him closer, welding their bodies together, biting his lower lip as all his blood surged straight to his cock. 

Nay, he had never said that to.... Oh, twas a line. A moan tore from Sam's throat as Dean groped and kissed him again. Sam panted against Dean's lips. "Impala, now," he said ungently, his breaths coming faster. If Dean kept this up they were going to wind up doing the deed right here up against the side of the building. 

He pulled away from Dean and tugged open the passenger door. About to climb in, he noticed a package on the seat and picked it up. Once inside the car, he pulled out a small box with a tube of something out of the bag and held it up, confusion clear on his face as he held up the small package and quirked his brow. “What manner of gift is this?” 

Fuck. His zipper was pressing up so tight against his erection, Dean was almost ready to undo his pants. His breaths were still coming out hard and fast when he saw what Sam had in his hand. "You did say we'd be a tight fit..." He managed to flash a brief smile, his eyes lighting up with mischief, before he had the car speeding the short distance to the motel. 

Sam's brows knit together, though he smiled a goofy smile at Dean and dropped the package back into the bag, still not quite sure what he had there. He figured it was something Dean felt was important, so he didn't say anything more about it. 

When the Impala came to a screeching halt before the motel, Sam grabbed Dean's hand as he turned off the engine and before he could open his door. "If ye have changed ye mind..." Sam was allowing him to back out one last time. He didn't want this to be something Dean regretted, or possibly hated him for later, once the fog cleared. He wasn't sure why it was so important to him that Dean be 100% sure about this, it just was. Sam licked his lips as he regarded the man before him, waiting for his answer.

Dean's breath caught in his throat. He knew this was what Sam had wanted from the first time they'd met in a dream. Hell, he'd been waiting for this for centuries, and yet he was giving him a way out. 

He turned bodily, letting his gaze linger on those eyes that fascinated him, his mouth... that strong chin. "Sam." He swallowed hard, looking back up into his eyes. "I'm not changing my mind. I want this." His voice was low and husky, but sure. "I don't know how it happened, but somewhere between 'hell no' and ... ah... 'maybe'... I... well." Pressing his lips together, he looked away from those eyes which saw too fucking much. 

Sam smiled as he listened to Dean and gave a small nod of his head. Sliding closer, he reached out with his free hand and turned Dean's face to look at him. "Aye, I knoweth," he gave a small smile as hazel eyes searched Dean's face. "I finally bewitched thee, the way thou didst me from the start," he said as he leaned in, pressing his lips softly to Dean's, his tongue tracing over Dean's bottom lip, before darting inside to tangle with Dean's own tongue.

Opening his mouth, Dean let Sam kiss and explore his mouth, trying to hold still for him. Things stirred inside him, emotions... emotions he thought he was incapable of feeling. "Sam," he swallowed, and pressed his cheek into Sam's palm before sliding his mouth over to kiss the same spot. "You're right... you have. And you know what?" He pulled away slightly. "I'm not sorry that I'm ‘the one’. I'm just sorry it took me this fucking long to figure it out. Are there... you know, any magic words I should be aware of... something I need to say, before we..." 

Sam smiled wider and shook his head, "Not that I am aware of, but thou mayst feel free to cry out what ever magic words ye wish during," he told him with a grin.

"’Thomas’? That's a good word to cry out..." Dean smirked, as his hand blindly searched for the door handle. 

Sam's smile fell away for a moment before he gave a small nod, "Thomas. I shall remember that," he told him as he pulled away reaching for his own door handle.

"Bitch," chuckling, Dean was out the door and around the car to Sam. He managed to simultaneously close the passenger door and push Sam back against it. "Just don't call me ‘Virginia’, or we'll have problems," he growled, his hands possessive as he ran them over Sam's chest, and brought one down lower to cup his ass. Fire danced between them as their gazes locked. 

Sam shook his head and gazed into Dean's eyes, "Nay, I only want you, my Prince." Leaning in, he brought his lips so close that they brushed against Dean's as he spoke. "If ye do not take me inside, I fear I shall lose my virginity here against your Impala," Sam told him breathlessly, as he crushed his lips to Dean's again, his arms wrapping around Dean and drawing him up hard against his frame to allow him to feel the urgency of his arousal.

He tasted so damned good, feel so damned good. A low, husky moan escaped Dean as he plunged his tongue into the moist, sweet heat of Sam's mouth, grinding their lips together as he tried to get closer. Need slammed into Dean so hard, he was barely able to think beyond the next touch, and the next. He half dragged, half pushed, half pulled Sam toward their room, stopping to steal hard kisses... groping, burning up with no relief in sight.

By the time he had Sam against their door, he was ready to tear his shirt off. "Fuck, Sam... I need you," he forced himself to release the material of Sam's shirt and was cursing until he got the damned door open.

Sam's cock twitched within the tight confines of the jeans he wore and heat pooled in sensitive areas at Dean's words, his breathing labored as he nodded his agreement. "Aye," he managed to get out as he followed Dean inside, and pulled him back for another kiss and for more touching. Sam tugged at Dean's leather jacket, pulled at his shirts and tee, his digits fumbling with the button of his jeans. The Saints! How did he wear so many layers?

"I thinketh a new rule is in order, ye are not allowed ta be wearing clothes I canna get into fast!" Sam told him breathlessly.

"Sonova..." Dean winced as his jacket and shirt were wrenched off him and Sam was now tugging his tee shirt up. Raising his arms, he let him get the article of clothing off, then pushed Sam back up against the door. "My turn." For the second time this night, he felt like tearing Sam's shirt off. But Sam got it off so fast, no tearing was necessary.

Dean moved his palms over the planes of Sam's exposed chest, eyes focused on Sam's reactions as he ruthlessly explored his body, every inch of his flat abs and the rippling muscles at his sides. He was ‘the one’. Now that Dean accepted it, every cell in his body was screaming for more, was screaming for him to prove it to Sam. 

As Dean explored his body Sam forced himself to hold still, not to crush his body again Dean’s, not to tell him he needed to stop, to go, to _do_ something... Instead, he held perfectly still, or as still as his heavy breathing and the involuntary flutters of muscle movement that Dean's exploring hands caused would allow. He watched Dean through passion heavy eyes, small moans escaping as he clenched and unclenched his hands into fists.

Abruptly gripping Sam's hand, Dean pressed his palm over the his arousal. Reeling from the heat that spread from Sam's hand, he sucked in his breath. "Look what you do to me." 

Sam groaned, taking a step closer as he wrapped an arm around Dean, needing to feel him close. His hand on Dean's denim encased shaft squeezed gently, pressing to give him friction. "And ye must know ye do the very same ta me." Sam told him, his voice so husky it had dropped an octave.

"Oh God," Dean gripped Sam's arms, his breaths coming harder as Sam slowly drove him out of his mind. When he couldn't take it a second longer, he started to undo Sam's belt, then his button, then hell... the rest of the buttons. His hand was a bit shaky, making him curse at the slowness of the process. "Another new rule... no more button pants for you. Zippers godamn it... just zippers."

Sam chuckled, nodding. "Mayhaps no more tight jeans either," he winced slightly as he looked at Dean, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "Mayhaps I can just wear those pants that rip away?" he asked with a raised brow. "Then I wouldst be accessible ta ye whenever the mood striketh." Sam suggested. "I can even continue ta go," searching for the word, he frowned, "commando."   
Hearing the sound of Dean swallow, he helped Dean with the remaining buttons and toed off his boots. Then he reached for Dean's pants, tucking his fingers into the waistband, "These need ta be comin' off." Sam told him. "I wanna taste ye before we do any thin' else."

A brief jerk of the head was all Dean could manage as Sam pulled his jeans and boxers down, and Dean stepped out of them. The cool air hit his overheated skin, helping him get just a little of his control back. "On your knees, then, Boy King," bringing his hand over Sam's face, he lightly pushed the heel of his hand back and forth over his mouth as Sam went down. Then he felt Sam's tongue against his palm and groaned at the jolt of heat spreading through him. 

His heart slammed against his chest as he threaded his fingers through Sam's silky hair, and watched... waited for his mouth to wrap around his aching cock, so hard ... so ready, so fucking needy. "Do it."   
Sam glanced up at Dean, before leaning in, his tongue swirling around the head of Dean's cock, dipping into the slit as he licked the precome from the tip. Sam closed his eyes as he moaned softly, dipping his head to run his tongue from base to tip, before taking Dean's dick into his mouth deeply, not stopping until it bottomed out against the back of his throat. 

Sam swallowed then, the convulsion of his throat working against Dean’s sensitive tip. He moaned softly then hummed and pulled his head back slowly, dragging his mouth up Dean’s shaft. One hand came up to grip Dean's cock at the base as he looked up at Dean, "I get goin' I may not stop until ye are shootin down my throat," he told him then lowered his head again, his hand pumping Dean's length.

"Fuck..." just his words had Dean bucking. "Take me inside," he demanded hoarsely," biting his lower lip as Sam started to work his cock with both his hand and mouth. "Yeah... yeah, so good Sammy, so good," he was making a mess of Sam's hair, and was riding his mouth, needing, wanting, taking. It went on and on, until he was frantic... so fucking frantic.

Heat started to gather low in his belly, preparing to erupt. He blinked. "Stop... stop Sammy... so good, but stop," he nearly panicked as he eased out of Sam's mouth. Looking down at that swollen mouth, he thought he had to be crazy to have stopped Sam. Yeah, fucking nuts. "On the bed. Now." 

When Dean told him to stop, Sam nearly groaned. He looked up at him, unsure what he wanted. The bed. Move to the bed. Okay, he could do that.

Taking a few deep breaths, Dean mentally imagined cleaning his gun... each part, one by one... going through the familiar motions. By the time Sam was laying on his back on the bed, Dean had calmed enough that he wasn't afraid of coming just yet.

Following Sam to the bed, Dean gave a hard tug on his jeans, pulling them practically all the way off. "Holy..." he really was commando, and ready... hard as rock, his tip pearling. Dean climbed on top of him, rubbing their cocks together as he used his legs to push Sam's jeans the rest of the way off his ankles.  
Sam’s breaths were coming too fast for his lips to form a full smirk, "Tis not holy exactly..." he made a feeble joke, unable able to think of much of anything, other than Dean. The way Dean felt, the way he tasted, the way he smelled... 

Sam moved his arms, hands flat against Dean's back a moan leaving him at the feel of their cocks rubbing together. He looked deeply into Dean's greens, the jade depth's seemingly darker now somehow, smokier. "Thou knoweth how to do this?" he asked, lifting his hips and worrying his lower lip with his teeth. "Because nay, I dunna know."

"Now... _now_ you think of the technical problems," Dean muttered against his mouth. He kissed him, hard. Moving his tongue in and out of Sam's mouth, quickly drawing him into a heated battle between their tongues. One mind drugging kiss followed the next, as he groped and touched, and tried to ease Sam's worries by giving him other things to worry about.

Aye, now he thought of the technical difficulties. Now.

Dean's kiss eased his mind. As their tongues collided, Sam lost all thought of anything else but Dean. He wrapped his arms around Dean, holding him tight, his fingertips pressing hard into Dean's back as he raised his leg slightly to move and tangle with Dean's. At each slide of Dean’s body against his, each stroke of Dean's tongue, soft moans and gasps broke from Sam. 

Sam was so goddamned responsive, Dean was addicted to this. If the ache between his legs wasn’t unbearable, he might do this forever. Finally, he swept Sam's hair away from his ear, and whispered thickly into it, "turn over, I need you  
At Dean's command to roll over, Sam arched his head back, pushing his body up hard against Dean with a low groan, before he slowly released him and rolled. "Dean..." Sam's voice, husky and dark with desire, was laced with a shred of fear as his hand moved to Dean's, threading their fingers together.

Dean squeezed his hand. "I know Sam... I know. We'll go slow." 

Slow... slow when all he was fantasizing about was being inside Sam, fucking him so hard, he'd never forget who 'his Prince' was... Maybe he should have let Sam get him off earlier. Untangling their fingers, Dean took the tube and started to try to read the damned instructions but no way that was happening. He knew enough to make this work.

On all fours, he kissed Sam's broad shoulders, zig zagging his way down to the small of his back. Seeing Sam's ass cheeks tense and tighten, he swept his hand back and forth over them. 

The feel of Dean's lush lips on his bare back trailing kisses over his skin, almost made Sam forget what they were about to do... Almost. Except for the fact that he was making his way lower and Sam knew why.

"Relax." Whispering about how good it was gonna be, Dean pulled Sam's cheeks apart and started to push his well lubed thumb in and out of Sam's hole. Each time his finger tip sank into Sam, Dean's breath caught. "You alright Sam? Why don't you tell me some good old fashioned porn story, hmm?”

Without thought he tensed. Tried to relax as Dean told him to, listening to how good Dean told him it was going to be. Feeling Dean spread him, Sam's hand bunched in the bed sheets as he waited. When his thumb pushed inside, Sam gasped softly, biting his lip, eyes squeezed closed at the burn he felt, trying to focus on how it was going to get better. Be so good, it was what he had wanted, waited centuries for. 

Was he alright? Sam could only nod in answer as he held his breath. Sam tried to think of a porny story but his mind was a blank at the moment. Images of the dairy maid Marian and the stable boy, who was named Thomas, of all things, flitted through his mind. Yeah, Sam wasn't telling Dean that one, and his mind couldn’t grab onto any other tales.

Bringing the tube close, Dean squeezed more of the ointment near Sam's hole, and this time pushed his middle finger inside, searching... seeking that spot that would make Sam forget all about the burn. 

When Dean pushed his finger into him, Sam gave an audible gasp, then groaned and arched his back as pleasure like he'd never imagined shot through him. "Saints!...Oh God..." he gasped, his breathing heavy as he released the bed sheets, hand moving upward to grasp the edges of the pillow as he turned his head. "I dinna know what ye did....but twas.... Oh God!..." he ended up crying out again as the sensation shot through him again.

Once he got it right, Dean kept stimulating Sam, weaving one finger, then the next inside, sometimes doubling up, always, watching, waiting, needing to hear his next groan, and his next. Sweat droplets formed on his forehead as he struggled to rein in the desire to slam himself inside Sam, make him make those sounds as he fucked him. "Oh God..." he wasn't aware of it, but he was making the same sounds as Sam, echoing him. 

Dean continued to move his fingers in and out of him, changing things, one to two, but always hitting that sweet spot and making Sam groan and writhe on the bed. Over and over again until Sam's throat was dry, scratchy from the sounds Dean was working out of him.

It went on for longer than he thought he could hold on, longer than he thought he could wait. His cock was throbbing so hard, it was painful. His entire body was vibrating with need... the need to be buried deep inside his lover. Gripping Sam's hips, Dean started to move back. "On your hands and knees Sammy." 

He was panting and mindless with the need for more by the time Dean told him to change his position, so Sam didn't hesitate as he released the pillow and slid his hands down, palms pressing into the mattress as he pulled up on his knees, head bowed, long bangs hanging in his eyes, matting to his forehead. 

Dean lodged his cock up right against Sam’s hole, pulling him closer with one arm wrapped around his waist. He nudged his cock against Sam's slick entrance, gritting his teeth to hold back a groan. He ran his other hand up and down Sam's thigh, his stomach and chest, letting him get used to this new position. His own chest was pressed up against Sam's back, his thighs against the backs of Sam's, and there wasn't any room between them... just the way it should be. "I love you Sam." 

A million things to say and do in that moment were running through Sam's head. Grinding himself back against Dean, reaching up and stroking his own cock to help with the ache there. Telling Dean how incredible he was, that he was glad, 'twas him', but none of these things prepared him for the words that left Dean's lips. 

Sam's opened his eyes, his lips parted as he panted for air. "And I love thee," he gasped, finally pressing back, the way his body was screaming for him to do. 

Once he found the courage to say the three words that scared the hell out of him, Dean couldn't stop. He said them again, and again, as he pushed inside, slowly but firmly, until he was buried to the hilt inside Sam. They couldn't get closer... no way they could get closer, and yet Dean wanted just that. "Give me your mouth," he asked, slowly started to rock forward, closing his eyes at the building intensity of sensations rocking his body. Sam was right... it was a damned tight fit... _perfect._  
Sam gasped and groaned at the feel of Dean's length and width filling him. "Holy 'ell..." was all he was able to manage as his head tilted back before hanging again, breathing harsh. When Dean asked him to 'give him his mouth', Sam lifted his head, turned to the side, he tilted it back as far as he was able, so he and Dean could kiss, their tongues tangling together. 

As Dean began to move inside him, Sam stopped kissing back for a brief moment as a shudder ran through him. Groaning low and deep, he pressed back against Dean. The kiss resumed with Sam trying to deepen it, hungry for more of Dean. "Oh God.... Dean....oh God," he managed to moan out in between kisses, fingers curling in the bed sheets as he thrust back against him. "More...harder... want ta feel ye on the morrow."

"On the what? Nevermind." He'd heard 'harder' and that was good enough, he could puzzle the rest out later, when need wasn't riding him like a bitch. Dean’s muscles contracted and bunched each time he plunged inside Sam, harder, deeper, so fucking deep Sam would remember for days exactly who had been inside him. If it was possible, he was still swelling... pushing against Sam's tight walls squeezing him so good... so damn good. 

They found their rhythm and moved like a well-oiled machine, the sounds Sam made counter pointed by the sounds Dean made. Between desperate kisses, Dean tried to say what was in his heart. "I don't have the right words, I'm just... just a hunter, not a poet... not a Prince, Sam." He felt tears sting his eyes, remembering it wasn't so long ago that he'd had nothing... no one in his life. "And I know you deserve better than me... than this... a life like mine. But," launching forward, and forcing Sam to look at him, his eyes filled with fire, "I won't give you up, Sam. I found you... I woke you, and now... now you're in my blood. You’re mine."

"Nay," Sam shook his head, "A hunter who had the courage to slay the beast and rescue the one under the sleeping spell, tis a Princely thing ta do.... and I have been yours since that day." Sam told him as he lifted one hand from the mattress and cupped the back of Dean's neck to pull him in for another kiss. “Yours.”

"That's right... mine." Dean's blood roared in his ears. Everything he wanted, needed... it had been under his nose and he'd been resisting for nothing. Wasted time... scared Sam. There would be no more of that. He knew his destiny was entwined with Sam's now. So with every hard thrust of his hips, every mind drugging kiss, every stroke of his hand across Sam's skin, he tried to tell him about feelings he couldn't paint with words.

Panting, Sam arched pushed back against each of Dean's thrusts. Balancing with one hand on the mattress, he began stroking his cock to the rhythm Dean had set. He hadn't been holding on by much before, but Dean's cock kept hitting that sweet spot with every single thrust and brought him closer to the very edge.

With each deep penetration, Dean's body started to scream for release. His balls drew up so fucking tight, it hurt. With one last hard kiss, he pulled up off Sam's back so he was sitting on his knees, and gripping Sam's hips. He started to push and pull, slamming into him faster, "Sam... come with me Sam," he pleaded, the last threads of his control gone as he single-mindedly climbed toward release. "Come with me," he growled, this time an order as he spiraled out of control.

When Dean asked him to come, Sam's teeth were already clenched together, eyes squeezed closed as his orgasm drew closer, a warmth that seemed to pull from his toes working its way into his belly, his balls drawing up. Dean's growled command was all it took and Sam was coming hard and hot over his hand as he called out Dean's name, head thrown back. 

"Oh yeah, Sam!" Dean came hard, spilling his seed deep inside Sam, holding him tight so he wouldn't collapse as he rode out the last waves of intense pleasure and came to a shuddering stop. "That was..." he panted, tried to catch his breath as he slowly pulled out of Sam, "awesome." 

As they slowly eased down onto the bed, a soft sigh escaped Sam's lips, his eyes closing, a smile tuggng at his lips. After what had to be the hardest and longest orgasm in history, Sam started to relax. His arms had started to shake from holding himself up and his body was spent and weak.

Yeah, he knew calling what happened between them ‘awesome’ was lame, but he'd already told Sam he wasn't great with words. Running his hand down Sam's back, he slid his mouth along the same path, then rolled to his side, exhausted, but happy. 

Sam, 'Mmm-ed' at the feel of Dean's hand and mouth along his back as he lay there, eyes closed in post-orgasmic bliss. When Dean rolled onto his side, Sam opened his eyes, mere slits of hazel gazed at Dean as he lay there.

"Dean?" he raised his head slightly, pushing his hair back by wiping his brow against the pillow. "Shall I tell ye, seeings as ye didnt call it out, that I knew a Thomas?" Sam gave a small chuckle, "Twas the stable boy I told ye about." Sam shook his head, "Twas na worth screamin' if'n what the dairy maid was mutterin' was true," he said with a tired grin.

Dean gave a lazy laugh, putting one arm around Sam. "I knew a Thomas once. She was REALLY hot."

Sam raised his head again, eyes open as he quirked a brow, "A _she_ named Thomas?"

"Uh huh, exactly. She was nicely stacked too." Again he paused, "but I wouldn't know if she was worth screaming out... I never thought I would EVER sleep with a 'Thomas'... even if it was a girl." 

"Mayhap our dairy maid should have talked to you about that... she dinna seemed thrilled either," Sam told him, then frowned. "Never thought ye would, eh?" Sam nodded, "I shant be tellin' ye my middle name then," he said as he turned his head.

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again. "Serious?" 

Sam smirked as he leaned over off the bed and grabbed his shirt off the floor, glad he had tossed it over this way. After wiping his hand off, he dropped it back on the floor and rolled over onto his back, looking over at Dean with a smile. "I dunno. I think Samuel Thomas is a fine name."

"Oh God, oh God Samuel Thomas... oh fuck, Samuel Thomas... SAMUEL THOMAS, I'm coming," Dean shouted his groans, then shook his head ‘no’. "Not doing it for me, Sam."

Rolling onto his side, Sam leaned in, brushing his lips across Dean's. He grinned wide, "Dinna worry, tis not my middle name. My middle name … tis much much worse," he chuckled as he wrapped an arm around Dean, edging him to roll onto his back. As he did, Sam moved a leg over one of Dean's snuggling in close, his face buried against Dean's neck. 

He placed lazy kisses along Dean's neck, moaning softly as he placed his hand on Dean's chest, slowly running it downward in caressing slow circle motions, across his abs.

"Mmmm." Dean practically purred under Sam's gentle touches. "Keep that up and you know what will happen." Giving a wicked grin, he held Sam close and closed his eyes. "Get some sleep, you're gonna need all your energy."

* * *

Shit! Sonova fucking bitch. Dean spit out blood and leaned his head back against the cold, damp wall. He'd been careless, and this is how it all ended. Dammit, it's not how it should end.

Sam had been a little 'too happy' for Dean to deal with before coffee. They'd stopped for gas, and Sam headed over to the diner to bring back better coffee and improve Dean's mood, or so he'd said. Then two demons had tag teamed Dean, and next thing he knew, he was trounced up, and his face was being smashed against the window of their car as they demanded to know where was the Boy King. A couple of smart ass answers from him, and they'd driven off.

Thank God Sam hadn't gotten back. 

Thank God, his ass. How long would Sam be able to last without him? The demons had made it clear that they didn't need him to tell where Sam was because soon, he'd turn into Sleeping Boy King, and be in the news again. And then all they had to do was bring his sleeping body here for Dean to reanimate.

He started to work on the ropes that bound his hands behind his back. He'd been over every inch of the basement, and there wasn't a single sharp thing he could use, so he was left having to try to loosen the damned ropes.

****

Unsure how smart it was for a person under a sleeping spell to perform a ritual that sent one to sleep so you could dream walk, Sam pushed that worry aside and did what needed doing anyway. 

The panic that had lodged in his chest upon his return to the car to find Dean gone and the smell of sulfur everywhere had left little doubt as to what had happened in his absence. Remembering the ritual Dean had shown him in his father’s journal… the one that had made it possible for them to meet in Dean’s dream in the first place, Sam made the decision. 

So, here he was, lying on the bed in their room, waiting for sleep to take him so that the ritual he performed would allow him to connect with Dean. He had to find him, had to help him get him the hell away from the demon scum that had taken him. 

**** 

Sam walked out of the shadows of the dungeon he was in, well to Sam it was a dungeon, he was certain there was probably a different name for it in these times. Seeing Dean, Sam gave a sigh of relief that he was whole and seemingly unharmed...for the most part… save for his bloodied and bruised face. Not that he didn't wince at the sight of that as he approached. 

A small smile pulled at Sam's lips as he leaned a shoulder against the wall and stopped a few feet from Dean, arms crossed over his chest. "I have heard the terms, 'love 'em and leave em' and 'wham bam thank you ma'am', but this is a tad ridiculous, doest thou not think?" Sam asked him as he quirked a brow, his gaze traveling over Dean's form.

It took Dean all of five seconds to realize he wasn't hallucinating and what Sam had done. "And you're here proving 'hell hath no fury as a woman scorned?'" His eyes drank in the sight of his lover, the mock angry stance making him laugh even though it made his bruised mouth hurt. 

"Sam." He let out a breath, trying to get serious. "You shouldn't be doing this. What's gotten into you? You should know better."

Sam pulled away from the wall, "I should knoweth better?" he asked him as he slowly walked forward to stand before Dean then crouched to his level in front of him. "I should know better than ta rescue the man I love?" he asked him, voice lowering to a husky near whisper.

The blistering heat in Sam's gaze was almost too much, too much when Dean knew this could well be the last time... No, he was gonna get them out of this, somehow.  
Sam shook his head as he pulled back up, "I thinketh not," he said as he tilted his head to the side, "I turn my back on you for a second and off ye go," he sighed. "Now tell me where thou art, so I can come and get thee away from this place."

Panic welled up in Dean's chest. "You can't come here, not for real. They want you, don't you get it?" He struggled, pushing his back against the wall in order to stand up. "They're just gonna use me against you, then use me to keep you awake and use you some more. I can't let that happen, Sam. Listen."

He walked nearer to his lover, frustrated his hands weren’t free to hold him, shake some sense into him if necessary. "Listen, you need to find someone who will keep your body safe, okay? I swear, I'm gonna find a way out of here, and I'll come get you. And if it's not me... then someday another--" the word 'prince' stuck in his throat, big time.

"Aye, I 'get it', Dean." Sam shook his head, "I dunna care. Tis not going ta happen." Sam told him, then huffed as Dean continued, "What if I don’t want another?" Sam shook his head, "Don’t be so stubborn. Tell me where thou art. I can handle demons, Dean, or doest thou not remember?" he asked.

"I remember. And what happened after? What if you run out of energy? You know I'm right."

"After, you shall be free. Tis all that is important. Dean, twas a reason that I was given this... power, to use it to fight them.” He paused, "Doest thou know who put me under the spell? My own mother, Dean. I am... different. Never did I think, never did _she_ think I would find a match. Who would want someone like me? Hense the reason for the escape clause in the spell, one she thought would never come true.” Sam looked down, his expression unmistakably sad. He could still hear his mother's voice. _They shall all fear ye, Samuel. Fear what they dunna understand. Those powers ye possess. They shall see thee as a witch and ye shall be burnt alive, is that what ye want!? Is it!? Thou doest not care what it would do to me nor thy father!?_ Yes, he remembered.   
Dean’s throat constricted. It was only bits and pieces of the story, but he got enough to know that Sam was hated and feared because of his powers before he became a legend. It scared him to know that if circumstances had been different, if he’d known about the powers before he’d had a chance to know Sam, he might have hated him too on principle.  
Sam took a deep breath before looking back up into green eyes, "Besides, I have the amulet." he told him with a soft smile. "Thou dunna need to worry."

"You got it? You do?" Dean's chest heaved. "How? Those puppy dog eyes work on other people too?" He ran the possible scenarios through his mind and ended up concluding Sam had gone to the Anderlace estate and talked the owners into giving it to him. 

"Sam..." He took a breath and told him where the house was, and as many details as he could about the entrance and the stairwell down to the basement. "There are two of them... be careful. Wait until you see no car in the driveway, at least one of them has been going out ... probably looking for you."

Sam nodded with a small smirk. "First I am na wanted at all, now it seems all I am is wanted," he said with a grin before leaning in and brushing Dean's lips with a kiss. "I shall be here soon," he told him as he pulled back, taking a step away. Sam spoke the word that would end the dream and have him waking in the real world. 

Hazel eyes blinked open and Sam saw he was once again in the motel room. It had worked. He had slept and awakened using the ritual. More importantly, he now knew where to find Dean. 

Pulling from the bed, Sam headed to the door intent on doing just that.

* * *

"Answer me."

When the demon brought his face close, Dean bashed his forehead into the guy’s. "That hurt me as much as-- unf," his face and head were knocked to the side under the blow delivered to his jaw. Did he really have to hit him in the same place?

"Did you or didn't you have a contingency plan? Did you tell the Boy King what to do if you got separated?"

The other demon sauntered in. "He's not going to answer Peter. Our guest is Dean Winchester."

Dean's gaze swung to her, but he managed to bite down on the insults to her intelligence.

"Winchester." Peter scowled. "Alright, that means he probably tattooed a contingency plan on the Boy King's ass. We have to find him before he goes to sleep somewhere he won't be found."

"If he hasn't yet," she said, nodding in agreement. "How do we draw him out?"

"The old fashioned way. We string Winchester up and beat him until the Boy King comes out of hiding."

"How... where…?"


	8. Chapter 8

Driving was a real pain in the ass.

Getting back to the motel earlier that day had been hard enough, trying to mimic what he had seen Dean do, only to wind up starting and stopping the car so many times he had almost flung himself out the windshield. But, now, when he had a longer distance to drive, and with his mind filled with worries of Dean's safety, Sam was tempted to trade Dean's beloved Impala for the closest fast steed to ride to his Prince's rescue. T’would be a lot more cooperative than this beast, that was for certain. 

Finally, he had managed, though exactly how was anyone's guess ... mayhaps the fates were smiling down upon him that eve, to reach the house where Dean was being held. Parking the dragon of a car a few blocks away, Sam crept toward the house glad that it was dusk and he could hide in the shadows. 

Hazel eyes scanned the outer surrounding land of the fortress. Aye, it was fine, though not quite a fortress, more like a country home built on a hill side next to too many similar homes, but who in Hades says _that_ when weaving a tale!? 

Dean had instructed him not to approach if there was a car in the driveway. He saw non. Indeed the fates were smiling down on him. Crouching low, Sam crept closer to the house, fortress, house, whatever! Hiding behind what appeared to be a small shed to the side of the yard. He waited there, until the sun finished making it's grand exit. 

Entering the home was easier than he expected. Trying the front door, Sam found it to be unlocked. That in itself set off warning bells in his head, but he told himself to continue on anyway as he needed, whatever the cost, to free Dean. Making his way through the home, booted feet making very little sound on the wooden floors as he moved, Sam found his way to the dungeon steps and slowly began to descend them. 

Reaching the bottom step, Sam's breath caught in his throat as he saw Dean there, seemingly alone, slumped against a wall, his bloodied face much worse than it had been in the dream. He stood there motionless in the shadows of the end of the stairs as he stared at Dean, hazel eyes wide. His hands, which hung loosely at his sides, clenched and unclenched into fists as his eyes narrowed in anger at what had been done. "Dean," he whispered into the darkened room.

Dean's head jerked up. "Sam. Hurry... before they get back." The assholes had taken pictures and their grand plan was to leave them around town with some sort of hint as to where Sam could go. 

Sam stood gritting his teeth. This was all his fault. All of it. If Dean had never met him, never had come to the castle to begin with... He was... a curse to everyone and anyone stupid enough to care about him. His mother had been right. He didn't belong anywhere. 

"Sam, _now_ would be good."

Dean's voice broke through Sam's thoughts as his eyes focused on his form again and he gave a curt nod as he stepped forward out of the shadows and over to Dean, his jaw clenched, a muscle twitching as he looked at him. "They hurt you." Sam stated, untying Dean so they could get out of there.

Sam's eyes were so damned expressive, Dean could tell he was blaming himself. The instant his wrists were unbound, he rubbed them, stood up, and putting a hand behind Sam's neck, pulled him down for a kiss. "If you're gonna _be a Winchester_ , you're gonna have to get used to the taste of blood." Giving him a look as he wiped the blood he’d smeared on the corner of Sam’s mouth off, he started for the door.

Sam looked at him confused for a minute, watching walk to the door. Winchester...? Wearing a slight frown, he followed, hurrying up the stairs right behind Dean. "Dean, I dinna understand..." Sam's words were cut off as they reached the top only to run smack into the demons who’d taken Dean. 

Sam moved quickly around Dean to stand in front of him, arm out blocking Dean from the demons in front of them.

"Fuck... Sam, what are you doing?" Dammit. He was trying to shove Sam aside, when and invisible force pushed him against the wall and lifted him up high, close to the ceiling.  
Sam's eyes widened as he watched Dean get tossed and lifted off the floor. "No!" Sam yelled at the demon, about to raise his hand and send him back to hell, when he realized the second demon would also target Dean while he was occupied. 

"I let him go, and he breaks his neck," the male demon smirked. "Now why don't you go with Melissa, and I'll make sure Winchester is nice and comfortable." 

Sam looked from Dean to the demon who spoke to the one he called, 'Melissa', then back to Dean.

"Don't believe anything the--" The force choked the rest of Dean's words. 

"Stop!" Sam yelled at the demon, tearing his gaze from Dean to look at him with narrowed eyes, "I'll go with ye, just..." Sam glanced over at Dean again, before looking back at the demon, "Just let him go," he finished softly, as he hung his head and began walking toward Melissa.

"That's it, honey," she mocked as she walked backwards up the stairs and pushed the door open with her rear. "Don't worry, you'll have plenty of conjugal visits." She stepped into the hall, fully expecting Sam to follow.

Dean was struggling, and not at all surprised when he found himself falling. He cursed all the way down the stairs, keeping score and thinking of how many punches he owed the demon. "Sonovabitch."

The demon laughed as he followed Dean down. "Now let's get you comfortable, shall we."

Motionless, Dean waited until the guy was close, then he lifted and swung his legs, tangling the Demon's and bring him down, hard. Scrambling while he still had the advantage, he grabbed a length of rope that they'd intended to use to tie his ankles with but ended up not using. Gripping the rope, he twisted it around the guy's neck several times and started to choke him. If he could just knock out the body....

"Fuck..." The rope started fraying, strands breaking in front of his eyes. 

*

Sam had followed Melissa into the living room, head still bowed as she walked back up to him, running a hand up his chest. "Now, you just play nice and Winchester won't get hurt..." she purred. 

Sam took a step back away from her, nodding, still not looking up. Once she had paced a few steps away, he looked up at her, "Melissa?" he said her name softly, waiting for her to turn around to look at him. "I have a better idea." He raised a hand, "How about you just go back to hell?" he asked her as his brows drew together in concentration and he watched black smoke slowly begin to leave her body through her mouth as she choked and wheezed, eyes wide. Her body slowly crumpled onto the floor. 

Lowering his hand, Sam turned and hurried from the room, heading back down the stairs. He moved slowly, cautiously, until he saw Dean struggling with the demon, then hurried his steps the rest of the way down. "Dean!" he called, "Move out of the way!" His hand was raised, prepared to send the demon straight to hell.

Letting go of the fraying rope, Dean rolled away, avoiding the demon's attempt to grab him. "What took you so long, you ladies flipping pancakes upstairs?" He got up and was walking to Sam, when Sam started doing his 'thing.' He'd seen it once before, but he still couldn't believe it... couldn't look away as Sam forced the demon out of the man's body. The strangled scream was very satisfying as Dean rubbed the rope burns in his palms.

Sam looked at the man's body as he lay on the floor, demon no longer there, but Sam couldn't stop thinking about how close he had come to possibly losing Dean... and it had all been his fault. Because of this thing...this curse, his ability.   
Slapping Sam on the back, Dean nodded toward the stairs. "We'll call 911 on the way out and they'll take care of them once they come around."

Once Dean had made the phone call and they were out the front door, Sam reached a hand out, grabbing hold of Dean's jacket and pulling him close. His free arm wrapped around Dean as he pressed his lips to Dean's mouth, kissing him passionately. Forehead against Dean's Sam sighed softly, "I'm...I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I dinna mean to ever put ye in danger." 

“Hmm?” Dean was a bit bemused as he felt Sam’s hand move to the back of his neck and started to sway toward him for another kiss, only to find Sam drop his hands away and step back. 

Pointing down the road, Sam looked at Dean, "Ye, Impala is just around that bend in the road there, Dean," he told him, before giving him a small smile. Sam had made a decision on the way out of that dungeon, after seeing the dangers that he had put, and would always put, Dean in.

"You drove? You drove _my_ car?" Dean asked, looking in the direction Sam was pointing and just about suffering from cardiac arrest.

"Thank ye," Sam told him, as he took another step backward, looked down before looking back up again, "For everythin' ye have done for me." Turning, he walked away. His heart ached, his jaw clenched, and his eyes glistening with unshed tears. One good thing was he would return to sleep and this would be nothing more than a dream. 

He was sure the amulet did not exist, it was likely just some legend to be told around the camp fires. As for the demons, they would always be after him for his powers, or the rumors of his power. He would never be free to be who he was, to actually relax and just be himself. Always needing to look over his shoulder, fear for anyone who might actually care for him. It was better this way. He needed to think of someone other than himself.

"What the hell. Sam. Sam!" At a complete loss and wondering just what he'd done now to piss Sam off, Dean strode after him, grabbed his arm and swung him around. The words he was about to shout stuck in his throat. 

_Please don't cry._ He pressed his lips together for a moment. "You're not even gonna tell me what I did? You're seriously gonna just walk away... after all this?" _After you freaking make me fall for you? After you turn my life upside down?_

Sam looked at Dean, tears pricking his eyes. His lips parted as he took in a gulp of air, trying to ease the ache in his chest. "Thou did nothing wrong," he told Dean, his voice no more than a choked whisper. "Tis I. I am cursed, Dean and I canna put you in danger...I willna. I love ye too much." 

"Curse is lifted, I woke you." He gave Sam a steady look, knowing exactly was going on inside the guy. The same thoughts that went through every hunter’s mind, the same things he'd worried about when he said he couldn't drag Sam around with him on his demon hunts. 

"You get that I'm a demon hunter? You get that the back of my car has an arsenal of weapons... that it's always been that way, before you... _after you_ , if it has to be that way?" There was no way in hell he was letting Sam walk away, but he wanted him to see the truth for himself. "Even back there," he jerked his head toward the house. "I told you that you'd have to get used to the taste of blood... because of me, because of my life, not yours."

Sam bit his lip, looking from Dean to the house they had left and back to Dean. "I dinna want to be the one to cause yer death." Hazel eyes locked on green. He took a step forward, "But, I also," Sam sighed, looked down for a moment before he looked back up again, "I would be lying if I said I wanted to leave." he ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair as he looked around them. "Arsenal, huh?" Sam asked him with a raised brow. "Fer someone with an arsenal, when are ye gonna stop getting yer ass kicked and needing me to help ye?" 

Dean cocked his head and smirked. "Maybe I like _survival sex._ "

"Survival sex?" Sam chuckled, then sobered, taking in a deep breath. "Ye know if anything ever happens to ye, I'll never forgive myself...?"

"Ditto. Are we done with the chick flick moment?" Dean grabbed Sam's shirt and drew him down. "Cause I like this part much, much better." Their mouths met in a hungry kiss, and Dean didn't care that his split lip was opening up again, burning. He'd been afraid he lost this, lost Sam just after finding everything he needed. All the possibilities that had tumbled in his mind... places Sam might fall asleep, ways he could get in trouble coming after him...

Sam frowned. _Chick-flick? What?_ Then Dean's mouth was on his and Sam didn't care what the hell a chick-flick moment was anymore. He agreed with Dean, he liked this part much much better. A soft moan left him as he matched his Prince, kiss for kiss. 

Dean pulled away, and wiped his mouth with his thumb. "Let's see it," he said silkily. "The amulet."

Sam blinked at him for a moment. The what? There was no... Oh, right. Sam shifted his weight, looked away, grimacing slightly, before he looked back at Dean. "Um...I, uh...."

Dean gave a forbidding nod, and then slapped him on the back. "Let's go get it."

* * *

For once, things had gone smoothly. The current Mr. Anderlace had easily given up the amulet to them, once he'd seen Sam. Half the gift store at the estate was filled with pictures and articles or lore about the Boy King, so proving themselves hadn't been hard. Listening to the man drone on and on, watching him start to walk away to go get the amulet, only to stop and talk more... that had been murder, as far as Dean was concerned.

Now they were out of the store and standing next to the car. "Go on. Put it on," he looked at Sam. 

Sam quirked an eyebrow at him before looking down at the amulet in his hand. "Tis you who must wear it, Dean. Not I," he told him, holding the amulet out in one hand. "Mr. Anderlace told me tis my Prince who must wear it. The chosen one."

Dean's hand closed around the black cord. He stared for a long moment at the silver charm, then put it on, and met Sam's gaze. "I won't take it off, not ever. And not just because... you know." He swallowed and looked down at his hands, one pulling his silver ring off his finger. "I'm not gonna call you my 'Boy King' or crap like that, but..." taking Sam's hand, he slipped his ring onto Sam's finger. "Now you're a Winchester. Well, after you say 'yes,' obviously."

Sam looked from Dean's face to the ring he now had on his finger and back to Dean. His mouth opened, but no sound came out, so he closed it again. He licked his lips as he looked back down, nodding, a smile slowly pulling at his lips.  
Taking a deep breath, Sam looked back up at Dean, "Yes." he said, using the words of the day as Dean had directed instead of 'Aye'. He chuckled softly as he looked back down at the ring shaking his head, "Samuel Francis Winchester?" Sam looked up, a smile on his face. "I thinketh I like 'Boy King' better."

"Francis... you're _such_ a girl, I knew it." Laughing, Dean put his arms around Sam's waist and walked him backwards until he had him pressed against the car door. "Better than Thomas, though," he muttered as his mouth descended on Sam's.

* * * 

[Reality]

Blackness gave way to shades of blues and reds, before yellows and whites joined the colors as Sam took a deep breath. Slowly, he opened his eyes and became sharply aware that it felt like his head had been bashed with something....hard.

Small bits and pieces, flashes really, of memory came back to him and he realized that was exactly what had happened. The instrument that dealt the painful blow? Car. He remembered walking out of the little food mart with Dean and the screeching of wheels as Dean had yelled and shoved him out of the way...only too late.

"Dean?" Sam's croaked, throat dry and scratchy from disuse, weak and soft. He turned his head to see the bed next to him and its occupant, his brother.

_Dean, Dean, Dean..._ Each time Sammy called out his name, Dean fucked harder, held him tighter, tasted him deeper. He had a partner now, in every sense of the word, and he was never letting him go. 

He heard his name again, less demanding. Forcing his eyes open, he saw the unfamiliar room "Sam!" Turning his head to the side, he saw him there, in the other bed. Not under him, not with him, not where he belonged. He was about to demand what the fuck he was doing all the way there, when pains that he hadn't had only a few minutes ago slammed into him. Bewildered, he pulled the sheets down, and found himself in a hospital gown which he pulled up His side was bruised and battered... reflecting exactly how he felt.

By the time he looked back at Sam, he felt like he'd lost his life. Sam was right there, but... Closing his eyes, he tried to sink back into his dream. It might be sick as hell, it might never fly in the real world, but where he'd been... it was so close to heaven, he wanted another touch.  
Sam groaned softly in pain, swallowed though his mouth was dry. "I feel like I was hit by a small freight train." Slowly, he raised a hand toward his head, saw the IV tube in his arm as his hand raised. Touching his forehead, he felt the bandages and grimaced. Lowering his arm back down, he turned his head to look at his brother, brows furrowed. "Dean?"

"Hmmm?" His dreams slipped away. "You alright?" When he looked over at Sam, he saw his brother, and a shadow of his dream lover. Pulling his gaze away, he took a deep breath. What the hell fucked up dream had that been? And a fairy tale at that.... dammit, he was gonna kill Rose. This was her fault, trying to put 'happily ever after' ideas into his head!

Sam tried to nod to Dean, only to squeeze his eyes closed at the dull throbbing pain that shot through his skull. "Ow... yeah, I'll survive. How long... I mean, have we been out long?" He picked up the bed's TV remote and started to channel surfing, trying to figure out how long they had been out of it.

Sam chuckled as he paused on a showing of Romeo and Juliet. "This sucks, even _I_ Can't understand them!" he chuckled at all the 'twould'na and could'na's, mayhaps and thy's.' before clicking past the channel. With a frustrated sigh, Sam clicked off the television. Hazel eyes slid to the table close to Dean's bed where it looked like their hospital charts had been placed. "Hey, grab the chart off that tray there and read it."

At his brother's blank look, Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, "You do know how to read a chart right? Just reach out with one hand, grab it up, turn it to face you and focus on the words. If they're too big for you, sound them out." Sam told him with a grin and a small chuckle.

"Course I know how t--" Dean's face whipped back toward Sam, and his heart almost stopped. Heat flooded his cheeks and the back of his neck felt distinctly warm. This had to be some huge cosmic joke, it had to be.

Sam's brows drew together, his smile slowly fading, "Dude, are you...blushing?" He lifted a hand to try to reach the charts himself only to stop short as the silver ring on his finger, Dean's ring, caught his eye.

_What the hell..?_ He frowned hard, staring at his hand, at his finger, at the band that circled it. The castle, the bed, the demon, Dean rescuing him, kissing him, touching him, holding him, and then fu-.... Sam's eyes widened as he looked over at his brother, mouth wide open. _No fuckin' way!_

Sam cleared his throat, "Dean?" he showed Dean his hand and licked his lips, "Do - do you know how I got your ring?"

"Wha--" Dean looked down at his own hand, bare of the ring. He _had not_ asked his brother to marry him... no fucking way. No way. And yet, all he could hear right now was the 'yes' that had come out of the Boy King's mouth, and that look of absolute happiness... the kind that could only be found in story books. 

"I don't know," he answered, not looking at him, not asking him to take it off and give it the fuck right back. "Probably nurses."

Sam frowned. "Since when do nurses take rings off patients and put them on their brothers? Especially the ring finger of my left hand!?" Sam asked him, as he reached over with the other hand and started trying to pull the ring off. It wouldn't budge. Sam stuck his finger in his mouth to try to lube up the ring so he could slide it off. It didn't move, only made his knuckle hurt. Huffing, he let his hand flow down. "I guess I'll have to take it off when I get up and wash my hands," he looked over at his brother again, "Sorry, man."

"Forget it." He felt Sam staring and looked at him. "I said forget it," he said a lot more gruffly than he intended. It couldn't be...

Before Dean could think on it some more, a team of doctors and nurses walked in. By the time they had their IVs taken out and had been checked out by the doctors, they learned they'd both been knocked out... comatose for five days. Five... same number of days it had taken him to wake and fall for... he started to have trouble breathing, and then the team was on him again, treating him for goddamned hyperventilation. He'd never hyperventilated before!  
Sam was trying to digest the news that he’d been out... been sucked into a five day long dream, when Dean started having breathing issues. He threw back his blanket and was at Dean's side faster than he probably should have been since the room spun slightly. 

"Slow and easy breaths, Dean. Slow and easy." As he desperately tried to get Dean to breathe right, he paid no attention to the fact that he was in a damn hospital gown with the back hanging wide open. His worry and panic for Dean was too great to allow that fact to penetrate his thoughts. Sam grabbed Dean's face in his hands and stared down at his brother. "Stop! Calm down! I need you to calm down!"

The sight of Sam, standing there in that stupid gown, occasionally giving a peep show of his ass made it that much worse. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. All he could do was gulp in air, but it didn't help... it was like none of it was getting to his lungs.

One of the doctors pushed Sam out of the way and put a bag over Dean's mouth, forcing his head down between his knees. Dean felt a hand on his back, soothing him. And somehow he knew it was Sam again. Minutes felt like hours. A few more deep breaths, and Dean found himself. "Ok... I'm okay,” dropping the bag, he lay back on the pillows.

"We were going to release you both today. Maybe we should get you scheduled for a psych evaluation."

"Psych evaluation, my ass. Check us out." He knew exactly what was wrong with him. And when the dream faded from his mind, he'd be just fine. "Get dressed Sam."

Sam looked at Dean like he'd just punched him, not understanding what he'd apparently done wrong to merit that tone. Pressing his lips together, he nodded, "Yeah, okay." As Sam turned and walked to the bathroom, he gave Dean a complete show of his bare ass.

"Sonova..." Dean took a deep breath and prayed for patience as he played it off as if the curse had been aimed at the medical workers who were still trying to convince him a longer stay was to his benefit. In no mood for this, he effectively threw them all out of the room and headed for the small closet to grab his stuff. For one crazy instance, he thought about going into the bathroom with Sam, kissing the hell out of him and seeing where that went.

Right... straight to the asylum is where that went. As he sullenly got dressed, he tried to be grateful they were alive. The way that car had been speeding, one or both of them could easily have been six feet under now. He had Sam, and Sam had him, it would be like it always had been. It was fucking nuts to miss something you never had... that you'd tasted only in a fucked up dream. He didn't need someone to hang onto every night... he had lots of _someones_ to hang on to, at every bar, in every town. Right. He didn't need a soft male voice telling him he was the _only one_ , he didn't need hazel eyes staring at him with a love so pure it was the stuff of fairy tales.

Slamming the closet door, he zipped his pants up.

Sam leaned his hands on the sink and looked into the mirror. "It was just a screwed up dream," he told his reflection. Dean didn't know about it. He had had a weird dream because the last thing they had been talking about was that Fairy Godmother woman and how they would never have a 'happily ever after'. That was all it was.

With a sigh, he pushed away from the sink and started to get dressed. He huffed softly as he thought about Dean's reaction if he caught wind of Sam's dream. He'd be punched so hard in the face, he'd be gumming his food for the rest of his life. Yeah, totally a messed up dream. Nothing more. Besides, he would _never_ use words like twas, thou, and thy. Sam shook his head as he pulled the last item on, his long sleeve shirt, and buttoned up. Nope, not him. A dream.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he looked at his brother. "Ready to go?" he asked him. 

Dean turned and saw the sunlight from the window glint off the silver ring on Sam's hand. Oddly, his hand didn't feel bare, but his heart did. Dry scrubbing his face with one hand, he nodded. "Yeah, let's get outta here."

He brushed past Sam, into the bathroom to take care of some business and brush his teeth, and let Sam handle the checking out of hospital procedures which were sure to drive him nuts right now. In the bathroom, he stared at himself as he quickly shaved. He looked the same... same old Dean. Just didn't feel the same. Batshit crazy woman... a part of him wished that they hadn't saved Rose, or had at least duct taped her mouth and not listened to her shit about 'happily ever.'

A half hour later, they were in the car and on the road. All these years, he didn't think he'd ever noticed Sam's unique scent. Now, suddenly... he was so fucking aware of it, it was damned indecent. He didn't even know if it was just in his own head because every time their eyes met, he had the feeling he wasn't the only one looking quickly away.

"You ah... remember anything besides getting fucked over by that car?" 

Sam nearly choked before clearing his throat and shaking his head. _Lovely choice of words there, Dean._ He frowned thoughtfully, "Um, nah, not really. Had a weird dream, but..." Sam shook his head, looking out his window. "I think we're good," he mumbled, watching the scenery pass by.

"Dream, you had a dream?" Three seconds stretched to forever before Dean found himself asking. "What was it, your dream?" Another three seconds and he was getting damned impatient. "Sam?"

Sam wasn't gonna answer that question. No way on this planet. He pressed his lips together to keep himself from spilling it, kept his face turned away, afraid that if he looked at Dean, he would be caught, his eyes locking with eyes as green as the hill sides of... Sam frowned, he was NOT going to finish that thought. Damn dream anyway.

"It was nothing, Dean. Just a weird ass dream. You wouldn't be interested, trust me," Sam grumbled.

"Maybe I would," there was a catch in Dean's huskily whispered request. 

Sam's head turned quickly as he looked at Dean, lips slightly parted in shock, before he turned back and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "Nay, you wouldna," Sam answered softly, before he realized what words had come out of his mouth, his eyes widening.

Dean swerved off the road, slamming his brakes and just avoided hitting a thick wooden post. He looked up at the billboard they'd almost knocked over, and then back at Sam who still had a hand out on the dashboard. Swallowing hard, he looked back at the ad for 'Sleeping Beauty, the musical,' and rested his head back against the chair. "Gotta be some cosmic joke." 

His chest was heaving. A part of him hoping... wishing, but the more rational part of him knowing even if Sam had shared the dream, to Sam it could really be nothing more than a 'weird dream.' No left over feelings, nothing. 

Sam was still bracing himself from Dean's sudden brake and swerve, when he looked over at his brother who looked like he'd just seen a ghost... okay, like normal people looked when they had just seen a ghost. His eyes followed Dean's gaze to the billboard for 'Sleeping Beauty, the musical' then moved back to his brother.

Sam licked his lips, trying to think of something to say, something that wouldn't give too much of his feelings. Damn the way the dream had made him feel... like he had finally found the one person, the only person he could be himself with, who would accept him just as he was. All of him, and love him in return no matter what. It was a dream, one Sam hadn't allowed himself to even consider since Jess.

Once more, he glanced at the billboard and looked back at Dean, huffing softly. "Bet their version doesn't include demons." He slightly moved his finger on his left hand, the hand braced against the seat, to lightly touch Dean's hand. Biting his lip, he waited.

"Yeah," Dean made a gruff sound before he noticed Sam's hand against his own... his ring on Sam's hand... his brother's eyes drilling into him, an unspoken question in their depths. Dean's mouth went dry. He wanted out of the car, that or... yeah, he wanted what he'd lost in the dream. 

"Or a..." the words were sticking in his throat, and he just needed them out there, without putting too much of himself out there with them, in case he was wrong about this. "... a King and a Prince, instead of a Princess and a Prince." 

Sam smirked, "You mean a sleeping Boy King and his Prince?" he asked him, before pulling his hand away and clearing his throat. He frowned at the billboard as he shook his head, "Yeah, probably not any of that in there... or the funny talking when the Boy King gets angry," he swallowed, slowly turned his head and looked at Dean. "Or, uh, excited." Sam bit his lip. 

"Your accent was terrible." _I still fucking like it... a lot._ He searched Sam's face. "You think..." This was too fucking hard. "Interactive dream?"

Sam frowned thoughtfully. "Brought on by the power of suggestion maybe," he swallowed. "You said you liked my accent," his voice was a low whisper, before he cleared his throat again. “And there is the ring..." he turned to stare out the window.

"I did say it, doesn't make it any less terrible." There was a long silence while Dean battled his demons and tried to weigh the pros and cons, the risks, the possible ridicule... the righteous rejection. 

"Sam. You don't think we... I mean if we were gonna go back there, you with my ring..." _my heart_ "Me..." _so deep inside you that we're like one_ "... with you, I'd like to skip the whole awkward 'but we're both guys' stage. Been there, done that, and it wasn't fun..." He wasn't even bringing up the obvious 'brothers' thing.

Sam slowly turned his head to look at Dean, his expression unreadable, then sighed. "But..." he licked his lips as he eyed Dean, "Do ye thinketh ye will remember how ta do it?" Sam asked him in the same annoying accent, maybe even more pronounced than before as a wide grin slowly spreading across his face.

"Remeber how to... you're still such a bitch," grabbing a handful of Sam's shirt and tee, Dean pulled him close, hesitating only slightly before bringing his mouth down over Sam's. There was no awkwardness, no second thoughts, no distracting questions floating in his head about who would lead the kiss... it came as naturally as breathing. He flicked his tongue across the seam of Sam's lips, then pushed inside. And just like that, he was sliding home... because this was Sam, his Sam. In dreams, in real life, they belonged together. 

He moved his hand to the side of Sam's neck as he kissed him harder, deepening the kiss, tangling their tongues together and drawing back only to be sucked back into the moist hot cavern of Sam's mouth. Heat swamped his system, and a small groan erupted from the back of his throat. 

When he broke the kiss and looked at Sam's flushed face, he knew the truth. "The dream... I think it was practice. For this." Just like his alter ego had practice sessions with the Boy King before waking him, the whole thing had to have been one big practice session for... this.

Sam smirked slightly, looking at him from under heavy lidded hazel eyes. "I dinna think you need practice." 

“Let’s test that theory...”

Sam didn’t argue. He leaned in, wanting to taste those full lips he remembered again. “Dean...”

“Sammy.” 

The windows fogged up in no time, protecting them from the prying eyes of other drivers, and locking them in their own little world.

_And they lived... and died... and lived again, happily ever after..._

The End.


End file.
